


Whisper My Name In the Dark

by JailynnW



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brienne can speak to dead people, But she is still a badass, Characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Magic, Psychic Abilities, Slow Burn, Still has elements of canon, Witches, don't know what this is, some horror elements, supernatural fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2020-03-17 16:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18968578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/pseuds/JailynnW
Summary: Magic in any form was evil. That's what she was taught from an early age by her septa. She was told only the truly wicked should be able to mess with the laws of nature. Good people stayed out of such things.





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This idea is basically the movie "Just Like Heaven" only Brienne can actually see dead people. It might be stupid and I'm not sure what I'll actually do with it, but I thought I would share nonetheless.
> 
> The ages are much closer to how they are in the books. Brienne is about ten years younger than Jaime and Cersei...  
> \-------
> 
> All characters belong to people much more important than me. I'm just borrowing them for a moment. I'll give them back when Dan and Dave give Jaime back his honor. Or until GRRM releases the final books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gorgeous art work was made by Ro Nordmann. Thank you so very much. I love it!

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/181950571@N02/48342483962/in/dateposted/)  


<<>><<>>

Magic in any form was evil. That's what she was taught from an early age by her septa. She was told only the truly wicked should be able to mess with the laws of nature. Good people stayed out of such things. Brienne really wanted to be a good person, she wanted to be _normal_ , or as normal as a girl of two and ten could when she looked more man than girl and towered over many on her tiny island already. She tried not to hear the ghosts dancing through the great hall of her ancestral castle. She struggled to keep what she saw a secret. It was easy for the most part. No one really paid attention to her.

And if they did, she was only ever _that_ freak. Not because of her affliction with the evil ability but because she was five foot ten- and unfortunately still growing-, she was large, her teeth were crooked and chipped and her hair was long, dull and the color of dirty straw. Her appearance kept even the most daring challengers away. Essentially she was able to hide in plain sight. Brienne would never be comfortable with her lack of good looks, it was not easy being ugly in a world where only beauty is praised, but it afforded her the time alone to talk and help spirits without being seen.

Being able to help a lost soul cross or find peace was a talent. One she couldn't share, but one she loved all the same, even if it did make her evil in the eyes of most. The first time she really saw and talked with a ghost for a long while she had been four and playing near one of the many fields of wildflowers around Tarth. A tall man, at least seven feet, stood in the middle of the field, he smiled at her and showed her his shield. It was one she had seen in the great hall of her family's home. She walked over to him, her big blue eyes widening.

_“That's not yours.” She told him with her tiny fists on her hips._

_“Oh but it is, sweetling,” the tall man said with a grin. “And one day you will carry it as well. A family connected through battle and blood.”_

_She pushed her long blonde hair out of her eyes as the wind pushed it forward, “I'm a girl. They don't let girls fight.” Brienne tried not to pout, but she didn't like being told she couldn't do something because she was a girl. “My Septa told me that only boys can fight. I'm supposed to learn to stitch and keep a house.”_

_“My sweet Brienne,” he knelt to her level, “You will be more than a Lady. You will be a knight. You will best the boys that mock you in battle and take your place among the most famous out there. Songs will be sung about you and another. Together you will find adventure and love.”_

_“How do you know this?” She asked breathlessly._

_The giant man with the memorable shield, touched her cheek. It was cold. There was no warmth to his fingers, no pulse in his body. He didn't say anything else, just turned and walked away. Brienne wanted to tell everyone about the phantom that told her she would be a knight, but somehow knew she needed to keep it to herself. After all magic was for the wicked._

The hardest spirits to move on were her mother and brother. She didn't want them to leave her with her father alone. Selwyn loved his daughter but a light had petered out when his mother was taken. It was almost extinguished when her brother met the darkness of death. She wanted them to stay always. Brienne had sobbed for days after each one left with the Stranger. The bony form of the faceless God had become a constant companion. She didn't fear him. It used to confuse her when others would whisper the name of the Stranger with tight lips and fear filled eyes.

She wanted to assure them that the God wasn't to be afraid of, he was simply a part of the cycle. The stares she got after trying to explain that was what shut her up. But really she stopped trying to include people in her world of the dead after her Septa Rolle caught her at the age of six drawing and laughing with a three year old little boy that had died of fever the winter before. The older woman had thrown her in front of the Septon and made to swear in front of the Gods that she would never do anything so despicable again as indulge in the supernatural.

And so the maiden of Tarth lived a duel existences after that. She longed to train with the master of arms- in secret if need be- to be just as good if not better than the boys with all types of weapons. She learned how to be a noble lady from her septa during the day. She learned about her family history. She now had a name to go with the face of the tall man she met in the field all those years ago- Ser Duncan the Tall. She tried her hardest to gain the respect of people around her. And she did it all with an even bigger secret hanging over her. The other half of her life was interacting with the ones that needed help the most, the silent and forgotten.

It was all working out well, until one night _he_ entered her chamber. The most gorgeous man in all the seven kingdoms. Also the most reviled. The blonde lion of Casterly Rock. His eyes were so green, it was almost unnatural- which it could have been. He was a apparition and they sometimes appear as they wished they had in life. Her heart beat quickened in her chest. She got the feeling he didn't change his appearance at all. He stood before her in all his golden glory, smirking at her with his perfect mouth. The Kingslayer. The man without honor. Jaime Lannister's ghost was in her room.

“Gods be good,” he sneered in her direction, “Are you even a girl?”

And she hated him on sight.

<<>><<>>

_Cersei ran through the halls of the Rock, ducking out of his reaching arms each time he got close. Her thick honey hair swinging around her shoulders as she turned her head to make sure he was still following. He would always follow his twin- his lover. He would follow her to the deepest hells if she beckoned him to. Jaime caught her around the middle finally, pushing his hard body into her yielding one. She twisted her head a little to the left, offering her neck to his lips. He took the gift with glee. Her pulse jumped as he mouthed her throat._

_“Jaime,” she moaned, “We're going to get caught.”_

_“Then open the door, sweet sister.” Jaime he panted into her hair, his right hand sliding up to cup her breast through the heavy material of her dress. “I've been parted from you too long. I need to be in your body.”_

_She turned the knob, pushing the door to her bedchamber open. As soon as the door was shut and the latched was secure, they attacked each other. She moaned into his mouth, her hand sliding down his side and around to cup his ass cheek in her hand. Jaime pulled at the strings of her bodice, growling in frustration when they wouldn't release fast enough._

_Cersei panted when he took the material in his hands and ripped. The cotton and lace gave way releasing the treasures he sought. He dropped to his knees in front of her, his lips wrapping around one perfectly pink nipple, nipping lightly at it before moving toward the next. Her hands dug into his hair, nails clamping into the flesh. He wanted to take his time, but he knew he couldn't._

_They only had a short time before father would arrive back from his trip to the east side of the rock. He stood up and pushed her on the bed. She bounced hard, her lips turning down playfully at his aggression. The frown disappeared completely when he pushed her skirts up and her small clothes down, before kneeling back on the ground. He inhaled her scent, dark and dangerous and so unbelievably _her_. He flicked his tongue against her cunt, tasting and teasing. Cersei pushed him down. She wasn't one for teasing when pleasure could be hers. _

_He gave her what she wanted. He took what he wanted. It was perfect and sinful and he would have been happy to never stop doing it_.

Jaime opened his eyes. His head was pounding and his mouth felt as dry as the Red Waste in Essos. He looked up at the castle in front of him. He didn't remember it. He didn't believe he had ever been to his place before and that caused him concern. He walked up the stairs toward the large doors, amused that the guards didn't even acknowledge him.

 _Some soldiers they have,_ he thought with an air of superiority. _Father would have all their heads on pikes for not stopping an unwanted guest from entering the Rock's walls._

The confidence started to leave him though when all he past ignored him. He was used to being jeered at and frowned upon for what had happened with Aerys, but to be flatly dismissed... well that annoyed him. How dare these people treat him with this much disrespect! He was the fucking golden lion of House Lannister. His blood boiled and his teeth ground together.

His steps through the castle became hurried. He would scream at people, demanding them to cast their eyes upon him. None would so much as flinch as he roared. His anger was only met with silence. Suddenly he stopped. His heart pounded in his ears. What was going on? Was this some kind of mummer's game? A great jape at his expense?

Jaime was starting to give up hope when a young man sighed deeply at him. He looked up and met the bluest eyes he has ever seen. With a jolt he realized those eyes didn't belong to a young man at all, but a very tall, very ugly _girl_. She turned on her heel and walked up the winding staircase toward the bedchambers. He followed. He couldn't let the one person who seemed unable to continue the joke out of his sight.

She slipped into a large room. On one wall was a shield with two swords crossed under it. The sigil on the shield was one he recognized immediately. The tree with a shooting star was so iconic in the Kingsguard. Duncan the Tall, one of the most famous and honorable knights. She sat on a huge bed, waiting. He looked at her again. She was even uglier up close and on the second viewing.

Her face was broad, her lips were too large and her nose appeared to have been broken more than once. Her body was thick. No other word came to mind. But he had to admit her eyes were astonishing. The sapphire orbs were as deep as the ocean and as clear as the sky. He could see, on a different face, some one getting lost in them.

She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. A smirk curled his lips. This was a reaction he knew. Women were attracted to him. He was used to them falling at his feet. The homely ones that did were the most amusing to watch. Like any one of them, beautiful or not, had a chance while Cersei walked the earth.

“Gods be good,” he sneered in her direction, “Are you even a girl?”

Her open expression slammed shut. A frown formed between her brows and she glared at him.

“Are you even a man,” she shot back before pulling the ribbons on the material of the canopy surrounding her bed, blocking him out.

<<>><<>>

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/2yGbMr6)  



	2. Reaching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Brienne pulled her pillow over her head, slamming the edges around to block out the annoying man's singing._

<<>><<>>

_A bear there was, a bear, a bear!_  
_All black and brown, and covered with hair._  
_The bear! The bear!_

_Oh come they said, oh come to the fair!_  
_The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!_  
_All black and brown, and covered with hair!_

Brienne pulled her pillow over her head, slamming the edges around to block out the annoying man's singing. He had been torturing her since she effectively closed him out and that was two hours ago. She let out a growl from under the pillow. He wasn't going to stop. She was never going to get respite if she didn't at least hear him out. Accepting her fate as the only one that could help him, she slid her head out and poked it through the split in the curtains.

Jaime sat in the chair by her writing table and grinned at her expression, which she could only assume was murderous at this point. _Oh boy, Lannister_ she thought. _You better by glad you have already passed or I would run you through._

“If you see a hand reaching out for you, take it,” she advised. “The Stranger can appear frightening but it's best to go with him. He can take you to the next stage of death.”

His mouth snapped shut and he glared at her, “I am not dead.”

She rolled her eyes, “Of course you are.” Brienne pushed the curtains further aside, sitting cross legged in the middle of her bed. She was really tired and hated when a spirit didn't realize they were deceased. It usually happened when the death was sudden or unexpected or some times when the person was just in denial. “Did you not notice how no one could see or hear you in the castle? Did you not realize that as you were causing a fuss no one reacted?”

“A jape,” he waved his hand. “Some one clearly knew I was coming and decided to have a laugh at my expense.” His green eyes bore into hers, “You obviously were the only one to break. No sense of humor, wench?”

“My name is Brienne,” she said with a snarl. “And you really think an entire castle would just decide to play an elaborate joke on you? You have a very high opinion of your own importance, _Kingslayer_.” She tucked some of her wayward blonde hair behind her ears. Gods she wished she could just cut it. “Listen I know it can be difficult to admit to yourself but you are not part of this world anymore.”

“So you do know who I am,” he puffed out his chest and she rolled her eyes. “And no it is not difficult to admit I'm dead, because I'm not. I would know if I was.”

“Some who have passed suddenly don't know actually. And with you being an oathbreaker and the kingslayer,” she shrugged, her patience gone completely. “Someone might have killed you without you being aware they were even there.” She winced at his paling complexion. Maybe she was being too harsh. Actually no she was _definitely_ being too harsh. He really did catch her on a bad day, nothing was going right and tomorrow she was supposed to meet her betrothed. Which she knew would not go well for her. Septa Roelle had forced her to work on her curtsy and her greeting so much that she actually ached. Sighing, she moved closer to the end of the bed, letting her long legs hang off the side. “I'm sorry. I should not be so unpleasant with the truth.”

“Why do you believe me dead,” Jaime asked, leaning forward on the chair. “You can clearly see and hear me fine.”

“Well considering who I am,” Brienne picked at the worn material of her night dress, “that's not saying much.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” she bit her bottom lip. She didn't want to say it. She didn't want the words spoken out loud. But who would he tell? He's dead, right? _But what if a servant hears?_ She looked over to the door, shut tight. _You could say you were sleeping... spoke while dreaming..._ “I can speak to the dead,” she told him haltingly. At his disbelieving look, she huffed and got up from the bed, walking over to him with a purpose. She raised her hand and tried to touch his, only a small tingling sensation could be felt. His eyes got large. “You aren't part of this world anymore.” Brienne's words were gentler this time. “I'm sorry.”

“I don't remember dying,” he said quietly. She looked at him with compassion. “You said I should go if I see a hand...” she nodded. “All I see is you.” His emerald eyes welled up and she felt her heart break. 

Sighing again, this time in sadness, she looked him in the eyes, “You can stay as long as you need.”

She turned her back on him and climbed in her bed. Just before the curtains dropped between them, their eyes met. A moment passed. A silent communication. She would help him, no matter what.

<<>><<>>

 _Her septa is a wrinkled old cunt,_ Jaime thought with a grimace. Brienne stood still as the woman belittled the young girl for her hair being too dull and limp to style nicely and her stitches being crooked. She sighed deeply at the state of her dress, which was slightly dirty at the bottom. Brienne glanced in his direction, quickly looking away again. A deep crimson blush stained her cheeks and she hunched her shoulders.

“Oh Gods be good, girl,” the septa said with exasperation. “Stop the blushing child. You'll only draw attention to the broadness of your face.” Brienne nodded, her cheeks got redder. The older woman threw up her hands and pushed hard against the young girl's shoulders. “Shoulders back. No use in trying to make yourself seem smaller. He will come to know your height soon enough.”

“Oh she's a sweetling,” Jaime commented sarcastically. “Full of supportive words and flowery talks of how lucky a man is to have you.” Brienne discretely shot him a look. He shrugged. “Come now Wench,” he stood in her line of sight. “You don't have to take this from an underling.”

Brienne said nothing. She just lowered her eyes from his and bit her lip. She twisted her fingers together tightly. 

“Do you know what to say when Lord Connington and his son arrive,” the septa asked, pulling a brush roughly through her blonde hair.

“Yes, Septa Roelle,” she replied, as her head was getting yanked back and her eyes squinted in a wince. “I am to welcome them to the island and ask if Lord Connington's son would like a tour while our fathers talk about the marriage.” She hissed as the woman twisted her hair into a knot, pinning it quickly before the strands could escape.

“Good,” she stepped back to examine her work. “Not much can help you child. Marriage will not be easy. I would suggested making sure the candles are extinguished when the bedding takes place.” Brienne blanched and Jaime glared at the old woman. “Men will talk sweetly in your ear, child, but only believe what the looking glass tells you. That's where the truth is.” He saw the tears start to gather in Brienne's beautiful blue eyes a second before she blinked them away. A young servant girl came in and handed the Septa a small rolled up paper. The older woman read the missive quickly and sighed. “I must see to a matter. Brienne, continue practicing your words and work on getting the redness out of your cheeks.”

Brienne didn't move until the door closed behind the serving girl and the Septa. She wandered over to the looking glass standing in the middle of the room and stared hard at her reflection. Her lips pulled down in a deep frown as she pulled at the sleeves of her pale blue dress. 

“Is she always like that,” he asked from behind her.

Brienne shrugged, “She is a little cruel in her teachings. But she does not lie.” Her hand smoothed down the front of her dress. Their eyes met over the top of the mirror. Her azure orbs resigned. “Such is life for someone not blessed with beauty.” She waved in his direction. “You would not understand.”

He smirked at her, even though he didn't want to. Seeing her like this hurt him. He couldn't comprehend why exactly. He had only just met her, but it bothered him nonetheless. Maybe it was because of how Tyrion was treated. Jaime could see some of the torment his little brother faced while listening to that horrible woman.

“So you think I'm pretty wench,” he wagged his eyebrows at her and she glared at him. 

“Have you seen a hand yet?” She asked to change the subject. 

He shook his head. “No.” He paced the floor. “I still do not believe I am dead. There must be some other explanation.”

“Well,” she rolled her wide shoulders the material of her plain dress making a noise in protest. “I do not see what else it could be. What is the last thing you remember?”

 _Being with Cersei,_ he thought with a pang in his heart. “I was with my sister. If I was dead, why wouldn't she be with me?”

“Some people find passing over to be easy,” Brienne responded calmly. “Most spirits only linger when they have unfinished concerns or just do not know they have expired.” Her expressive eyes revealed her feelings quickly enough. She pitied him. He did not enjoy being pitied by anyone. “I'm sorry that you are having trouble moving on. I know this can not be easy.”

He opened his mouth to respond when there was a knock at the door. Brienne turned toward the sound. A large man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes just a shade lighter than Brienne's own walked in. His broad face, so much like his daughter's, split with his grin. 

“My Dove,” his voice was rough, but not unkind. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, her crooked teeth scraping her bottom lip, “What if he does not like me father?”

“Then he would be a fool and unworthy of you, my sweet,” he cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her nose. Jaime felt a small amount of jealousy at that display of unconditional love. Tywin Lannister never gave anything without reason, especially his affection. “Come now,” he took his daughter's hand and placed it on his arm. “It's time. Our guests have arrived.”

Jaime followed them out of the room and into the foyer. Brienne and her father waited for the others to appear. She kept sneaking glances in his direction and he tried to smile reassuringly at her. Her nerves could be felt even by him, a dead man. The doors opened up and in walked a man around the age of eighteen if Jaime could guess. He was stocky in build, his hair was red- really red, almost orange, he carried a rose in one hand and held his sword with the other. 

He looked at Brienne, who was trying not to fidget too much, and sneered. Jaime didn't like him already. The young girl wobbled into a curtsy, nearly falling over in her desire to get it right. The smirk grew on the other boy's face. Lord Connington was an older version of Brienne's betrothed. He smiled at Selwyn Tarth, walking away with the Evenstar, but not before sending his son a meaningful look.

Jaime moved to stand at Brienne's side. Her back stiffened at his presence. “It's a pleasure,” she stuttered in her words. The confident girl that spoke to him gone, replaced with a shy and timid child. “My lord Ronnet, would you,” she stopped, her hand flew to her mouth and she grimaced slightly in pain.

The young lord Connington, held out the rose to Brienne, before dropping it carelessly to the floor. “That rose, my _lady_ ,” his already hateful smile turned a notch more cruel. “Is all you will get from me. I can not be married to such a freak.”

Jaime's hands clenched into fists at his sides and he made to punch the redheaded ass. True Brienne was not a pretty girl to look at but to be so detestable to a young woman of high born birth made his blood boil. Ronnet turned, his cape swinging around his shoulders and he exited the castle, laughing to himself. The young woman spun on her heel and ran from the foyer, through the kitchens. Jaime gave chase, only because his words to the bastard would not be heard and he couldn't knock the shit out him. He found her in a small practice field, reaching for a wooden sword. She didn't look in his direction but he knew she knew he was there.

Tears fell from her eyes and she swung the pretend sword into the straw dummy. He stood off to the side, impressed with what he saw. Her anger made her moves erratic but there was definitely skill under the roughness. She cried and grunted as she fought the phantom in her mind. He had no doubt it was Ronnet's face she was pummeling. 

After a little while, she dropped the sword tip to the ground and fell to the earth. Brienne was breathing heavily, but the tears were gone. She looked up at him, “I got so nervous,” she explained with only a slight wobble to her chin. “I bit my tongue. I thought blood was spilling out.” Her head dropped and she used the wooden tip to draw in the dirt in front of her. “It's my fault.”

Jaime came to sit next to her. His hand hovered over hers, he felt the tingling again like he did last night. “That _boy_ was an ass.” She laughed through her tears. “Come now Wench,” he grinned at her. “You can do better than some minor Lord that did not deserve you anyhow.” He looked over at the dummy and grinned harder. The poor thing was leaking straw the way a live body would leak blood.

“Sweetling,” Selwyn Tarth rushed over to his daughter and wrapped her up in his arms. “I'm so sorry my dove. I will do better next time.” 

Brienne turned her head so that her cheek rested on her father's large shoulder and looked directly into Jaime's eyes. “It's okay, father,” she smiled softly at him. “I deserve better.”

<<>><<>>

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/2yGbMr6)  



	3. Four and Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jaime leaned against the wall, trying to count the stars. Brienne was sleeping in her bedchamber and there was nothing to entertain him while she wasn't awake. He walked along the shores as the waves rolled to his feet. He wished he could feel the water. Would it be warm from the sun that never seemed to find a cloud to hide behind or cool from the moons soft caress?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for all that have read and commented on this story. It's a little pet project of mine and I really hope some of you are enjoying it. You all are the best! 
> 
> Thank you to my beta: merrymaya for pushing me and giving me advice as well as dealing with my often awful first drafts. She's a saint! 
> 
> If you like the story, and I really hope you do, please let me know. Thank you all in advance!!

<<>><<>>

“You see futures?” the young blonde said as she ducked under the moss colored tent flaps with her friends, Jayne and Melara following closely behind her. Her long hair was flowing down her back and her green eyes were sharp even at the tender age of ten. The witch opened her eyes and Jayne ran from the tent. _Craven,_ Cersei thought with a sneer. “I want mine.” 

Maggy wrapped her lips along her gums, teeth long gone, “Ev'ry one wants to know the future, child,” she croaked, “Until they do.” 

Cersei sat in the rickety old chair across the witch. Her determination to know what she wanted unwavering, she ordered, “Tell me.” 

“Blood is the price,” Maggy extended her hand. Age and lack of nutrition made it almost look like nothing but skin stretched over bone. Cersei hesitated then shook back her hair and placed her hand palm up in the elderly witch's. The witch was quick as a snake striking out, the blade appearing before Cersei could even tell what was happening, and sliced into the pad of her index finger. She pulled the injured digit toward her, sucking at the blood. Cersei's stomach lurched at the slimy gums against her flesh. With a pop of her lips, Maggy released her and sat back on her chair, “You have questions. Ask. Three is all you get for the blood.” 

The young blonde wiped her hand against her skirts, thankfully she wore her red dress today. “Will I have many children?” 

“You will have children: Three I see.” Her mouth opened, her tongue flickered out. “Your King will have more. Twenty and four. Some of his will live and grow. Yours will be food for crows.” 

The news of her future children's death chilled her, and it also annoyed her that the old woman was acting as if her husband would not be true to her. Her blood turned hot at that, she knew she was beautiful. Her husband would not ignore her, but she moved forward. “Will I be queen?” 

“Aye,” the witch answered. “You will be queen for a time.” The pale green jowls pulled up as she smiled a toothless grin. “You, Cersei Lannister will rule over a realm battered and slain, but then another more beautiful will come riding with the Valonqar to end your reign. These people you will know, one by sight, the other by fame, but I will not give you the name.” 

“Valonqar,” she rolled the word around on her tongue. She didn't know it. It sounded old. “Lies.” She glared at the ancient soothsayer. “You are only trying to scare me.” 

“I do not need to scare you, child,” Maggy grinned again. “The future will come if you know it or not. You still have one question. It sits upon your ruby lips. Speak, child.” 

Cersei looked behind her at her friend, the one who thought about taking Jaime from her, of being better than she was. This question was the most important of them all. “What of my twin?” 

“He will love only but two. Him, one will break, Him, one will heal.” Her yellow eyes met green. “Her mind is touched with spirit and a spine strong with steel.” 

Cersei pursed her lips. Her mind turning. Melara had spirit. Fiery and knew not her place at times. She could be the one will take Jaime's love from her. But steel... She didn't know what that could mean... 

“May I have but one question?” Melara said. 

“The price is still the same. Ask one or three, blood is what I seek.” The other girl thrust out her hand and like she had done with Cersei, Maggy sliced the finger before placing it on her tongue. “Ask dear girl. I grow weary.” 

“Will I ever be kissed,” she shot a glance at the blonde. “By whom I desire most?” 

Maggy shook her head, “No I fear. You will not, my dear. For tonight you will meet the Stranger. He awaits with open arms to welcome you after you find danger.” Cersei rolled her eyes as anger filled her. She picked up the nearest bottle of poison and flung it into the witch's eyes. The old woman screamed, “You are cursed, Cersei of House Lannister. You will not escape, from the Stranger's golden dagger. Cursed to your fate!” 

The girls ran from the tent. Melara shaken and Cersei frantic with rage. They made a pact to never speak of what they heard. One of Maggy's predictions did come true as the moon hung in the sky. Melara met the Stranger. Her body found broken at the bottom of a well. Cersei would always remember she wasn't silent as she fell. 

From behind a tree, a quiet woman watched. Her eyes flared as Cersei left the woods alone. The silent soul narrowed her eyes. This was what she hadn't wished to see on this night. It was foretold to her in her dreams. The oldest Lannister sibling, stupid and reckless, now set in motion a storm that would leave her weeping in the end. Foolish child. She held an amulet in her palm, whispering ancient words then she turned away from the golden haired girl. Her work was just getting started. A mist gathered around her, coming from nothing and enveloping her where she stood. 

<<>><<>>

Jaime leaned against the wall, trying to count the stars. Brienne was sleeping in her bedchamber and there was nothing to entertain him while she wasn't awake. He walked along the shores as the waves rolled to his feet. He wished he could feel the water. Would it be warm from the sun that never seemed to find a cloud to hide behind or cool from the moon's soft caress? The lack of touch unnerved him. He never thought about how much he enjoyed the feeling of contact- until now. Until he could no longer hold someone or something.

He sighed. He was becoming morose in his purgatory. It's boring waiting on the God of death to appear. Not that he wished to be dead. No, he wanted to be back where he belonged. His head hung as he thought about Cersei and one of their times together that he could remember clearly.

_“Please, dear brother,” she moaned into the sweaty skin of his shoulder, her teeth clamping down as he hit the right spot. “Yes there. Oh...”_

_He held himself steady inside her, letting her ride out her pleasure before pursuing his. Frantic movements of his hips, snapping into hers. The building of his release knotting up at the base of his spine. White lights passed before his eyes for a second before it exploded into brilliant color._

_He jerked as he came, spilling inside her, much to her chagrin. He grinned down at her frowning face. “You really shouldn't do that,” she said as she pushed him off of her, none to gently. She stood with more ease than he thought she should, considering how shaky his own knees were. “If I get with child _before_ I wed this bumbling Robert,” her eyes shot daggers at him. “Father would be most displeased. As would I.”_

_“Come, sweet sister,” he tucked himself back into his britches. “Do you really care what Robert or father would think? Run away with me. We can leave as lovers in the free cities or beyond. We need not worry about the concerns of others. We are all that matter.”_

_“Jaime,” she glared at him. “I am to be queen. We- I have always dreamed of that. I want you, but I want this as well. I can have both. We can have it all.”_

_He got up from the ground his head swimming with anger. “So what darling sister,” he tossed his blonde hair back, the curls falling right back into place. “I get to be your pet while your husband gets to be your lover?”_

_“You will always be my love,” Cersei cooed at him. Her hands sliding down the front of his wrinkled tunic. “You will always have my heart, just as I will always have yours. Robert will only have my body to fulfill a duty. I will think only of you. Your face will get me though. The memory of your touch will keep me sane.”_

_“Cersei,” he murmured before their lips brushed. Her body slipped from his and he watched her walk away. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It felt like someone was watching, but when he turned- all he saw were trees._

That was from so early in their relationship, but those were the only parts he could seem to remember with ease. Every other fragment of his past life was ripped and tattered. Some he could still grasp- getting Knighted, slaying Aerys, spending time with Tyrion at the Rock and in Kings Landing. But others were like written letters in water, smudged and distorted. 

He sighed in relief as the sun peeked over the horizon. Brienne would be rising soon and then he wouldn't be alone. He was acutely aware of how happy being around her made him. Her blue eyes and rare smile, her wit that she hid from so many and the way she flushed over his small compliments... He was grateful to have her while he floated in the space between alive and dead.

<<>><<>>

As time moved, and moon turns came and went, Brienne got used to seeing Jaime around. Soon all seasons came and went and he remained in her life. On her fourteenth name-day, she realized it had been one calendar and six moons since he arrived in her room. Through out their almost two years together, he would pop up at odd moments to surprise her. She started to realize she liked having him in her life. It was nice to have someone who knew her and all her oddities and seemed to enjoy being with her as well.

He appeared in the study quite a lot while she was forced to embroider a flower or a beach scene. His hair would fall into his green eyes and he would study the wobbly stitching with an amused glint. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from showing any emotion. 

One day he made a comment about her less than majestic embroidery. “You are definitely not made for this, wench,” he laughed at her glare when she couldn't stop herself any longer. “Your fingers are not delicate enough.” She dropped her head. She knew that. He needn't tell her. She was only too aware of how manly and large her hands were. The Gods seemed to want to torture her. At seeing the hurt flash across her face he added, “But you are made for a sword.” She glanced up through her lashes, careful to keep her features neutral with Septa Roelle in the room. “You were destined to dance with steel.”

A warm feeling bloomed in her chest. Her lips slipped into a pleased smile that not even Septa Roelle could wipe off. Jaime watched her from the other side of the room for a bit then left to wander wherever spirits did. The days always passed the same way. After she was released from the confides of the study and the glaring eyes of her Septa she rushed to her bedchamber, stripping out of the dress she was forced to wear and pulled on a pair of worn leather breeches and a light blue tunic. Her slippers were replaced next with her favorite pair of worn leather boots. 

Brienne smiled to herself. Out of those clothes and into her comfortable wears, it made her feel more like Brienne and less like the person the world wanted her to be. She finally felt at ease. This was her. She threw her long hair up in a knot at the base of her skull, securing it with a plain clip.

Brienne hurried down the staircase and out the kitchen door, snagging a hand pie on the way. The practice field was blissfully free of everyone, most having gone home or back to their chores. She looked over her shoulder, waiting. He should be arriving soon. He always did. The sun began it's slow decent behind the west side of the castle, casting long shadows over the dirty yard. She huffed to herself; her time was running out, deciding to start without him, she pushed the armory door open and walked inside. 

The tourney swords and practice swords hung enticingly before her. Her hand itched to hold one. Reaching up, she plucked the first one from its place on the wall and twisted the hilt over and over. A smile, so large it hurt, settled on her lips. She exited the room, still happily turning the sword in her hand.

“Oi,” a boy called to her. “You shouldn't be holding one of them.” Her blue eyes rose toward the voice. A pudgy kid a couple years older than her headed in her direction. “It's boys that do the fightin',” he sneered. “Girls do the cleanin'”

A couple of other local boys laughed at her. She stood to her full height. “I could knock you all into the dirt. Women can be more than maids for their husbands.”

The boys laughed cruelly at her but she remained tall. Jaime was teaching her. He was helping her get comfortable with the weight of a sword in her hand. Soon, she would ask Ser Goodwin to teach her formally, but before that time came she wanted to know all she could. Jaime was a much more patient instructor then she would have thought. He explained how to shift her weight and keep her shoulders straight. He pointed out when her footwork was wrong and would correct her.

She got confused by the slight flushing in her cheeks when he called her graceful after she completed a spinning parry he taught her. His smile made her stomach flutter and that was something she wasn't comfortable with. Maybe under different circumstances it would be a nice feeling, but she couldn't grow attached to him. He would eventually leave. The Stranger would come for his quarry. Brienne just couldn't figure out why it was taking so long for it to happen... She shook her head to stop the thoughts. 

“ 'll fight ya,” said the robust boy. “As long as ya don't go tell on me to ya'r f'ther. When I beats ya.”

She arched her eyebrow, excitement rushing through her veins. She's never fought anyone. “I will not tell.” Her mouth sets in a firm line. “Because you will not win. I only ask to know who I will be beating into the ground.”

“Name's Morty,” The boy puffed out his chest and went to get a sword of his own. When he returned he smiled unkindly at her, “And ya's won't be beating me.”

The two circled each other. Their eyes watchful, their bodies ready. Brienne tightened her grip as Jaime told her to do and waited. She knew it wouldn't be long before the boy would come at her. She counted to fifteen when he swung at her head. She blocked easily, pushing him back with her shoulder. He stumbled at her strength then came again.

He didn't have a lot of skill, but he had experience in sparring where she did not. Her lessons were with a ghost and her opponent was air when she trained. There was a heaviness to actual combat that she wasn't used to. Her arms started to ache with the constant clash of wood against wood above her head. Brienne wondered if she might lose. It would be devastating to not beat this boy who thought her to be good for nothing but keeping house and swelling with babes. 

_No_ , she thought, _I will find his weakness. I will win this._

The boy swung at her again, this time from the left. It was not her strong side, but she managed to spin and advance on him. He over corrected his stance and she saw her opening. Brienne faked to the right than pushed with her shoulder as her leg swept his. Morty fell to the ground hard, a grunt escaping as his head hit the dirt.

Brienne swallowed her grin. She would not gloat quite yet. She placed the tip of her wooden sword on his neck, “Yield.”

The boy turned his head toward her boots and spit. When his eyes returned to hers, they did so with a glare of hatred. “I yield.” 

He smacked the wood from his throat and stood. He placed the wooden blade back in the armory, his neck red from embarrassment or anger or both she did not know. When he passed her to meet up with his friends, he sneered, “Ya will ne'er be a knight. Ya will ne'er be a lady.” Morty looked her up and down. “Only a freak.”

Tears gathered in her eyes after he left the practice yard. A tingling feeling settled on her shoulder. She sniffled back the rest of her tears. Jaime came around to face her. His jade eyes bright. 

“Don't listen to him,” he said with a soft smile. “You were magnificent just then.” His other hand came to hover over her cheek as if to wipe the tears which were still there. “I wish I could dance with you, My Lady.”

 _I wish I could feel your hand._ Brienne wanted to lean into him. With a heavy heart she realized, she was becoming enchanted with Jaime Lannister. A man stuck in between worlds and even if he was not, he would never notice a girl like her. She was destined for heartbreak.

<<>><<>>

The hand on the amulet tightened as a tiny storm brewed in the iron cauldron. It glowed a faint green as she whispered her words. Heat warmed her hands until it became somewhat uncomfortable- still she held on. The body next to her stayed still. The face passive and peaceful. The mouth- a light pink, perfect in form and size- parted slightly with even breaths. 

She looked toward the old wooden and rotted door of the barely standing shack where they were. The magic of her words kept those unwelcome away. Only one will walk through the door and it wouldn't be soon, she suspected.

<<>><<>>

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/2yGbMr6)  



	4. Breaking and Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Days started to blend together. Moons passed over their heads. Jaime stayed. He would be there everyday. She came to depend on his presence. It was soothing and grounded her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all that have read, commented and/or left kudos. It means so much to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you again and sorry for the delay in updates. Life is crazy. 
> 
> <<>><<>>
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta: Merrymaya. Without her this chapter would be a mess.
> 
> <<>><<>>

<<>><<>>

Days started to blend together. Moons passed over their heads. Jaime stayed. He would be there everyday. She came to depend on his presence. It was soothing and grounded her. When other spirits would come to her, she waited with baited breath for Jaime to leave her. He watched her help others move on:

A child who died of fever at the age of three- _“I'm scared,” the little girl said as she wrapped her tiny arms around her middle._

_Brienne's eyes welled up. “I know, but you will be safe. Just close your eyes and think of something that makes you happy.”_

_“I like when my momma sings to me,” the young child replied. Her big hazel eyes opened, and she stared at Jaime and Brienne. “Will you sing to me?”_

_She knelt down on the ground next to the girl and smiled as best as she could. She hummed an old nursery rhythm she had heard in her childhood. Jaime came to sit at her side and hummed along. Neither really knew the words, but it soothed the young spirit. Her hazel orbs widened and Brienne knew the Stranger had come. “It's alright, AnnaBeth. You can go.”_

_“Is he nice?” her voice shook._

_“I think so,” Brienne replied. The little girl nodded and stepped off to the side. She couldn't see whatever the child saw. The Stranger didn't always appear to her. But soon the girl disappeared from view. Brienne wiped at a stray tear and said a quiet prayer, “Guide her to the Maiden. Let her find peace.”_

A few months later, it was a soldier. He came to her bloody with his body wrecked. Jaime felt a connection to the older man. The two men shared a moment before the older man turned to Brienne. _“My wife will not know what happened. She will believe me still at war. Please get her a message. Let her know I loved her with all my heart. That I will miss her and our children as well.”_

_“What is her name?” Brienne reached for a piece of parchment and a quill. “I will send her a raven with your message.”_

_“Mailonna. I always called her Lonnie for short.”_

_“I will get her the message. I wish you well on your journey.”_

_“Thank you, My Lady.” The soldier faded into nothing._

Some months passed and no spirits appeared at all... But neither did the Stranger for Jaime. Brienne tried not to be happy about that. The fluttering in her stomach every time she saw him was getting worse. She dreamed about him at night. She longed for him when he was not around. She knew she was falling for him. She also knew it was stupid. He was a spirit. Not of this world and she... well, she was a freak. 

Jaime continued to train her. He mocked Ser Goodwin at first. Called him a coward for not wanting to give her a chance, but soon, when the master at arms did start teaching her, Jaime had to admit he was good. 

_“I do not care for some of his choices. But he knows what he speaks of. Letting your opponent wear themselves down will give you the advantage.”_

_She dusted off her breeches and grinned at him, “So you approve?”_

_“Yes, wench, I approve.”_

Other days, they would walk to places she where she could speak with him without any eyes on her. Those were the days she learned the most about him. The topics of conversation moved quickly from family to dreams to fears. She shared so much of herself with him.

_“I know I will have to wed,” she picked up a fist full of sand and let the granules slide through her fingers. “I do not think the marriage will be one based in love.”_

_“Why do you think that?” Jaime asked. His impossible green eyes on her blue ones._

_“Look at me,” she said, turning to face him._

_“I am,” he replied. “I see a wonderful young woman.”_

_She flushed bright red, “But I am not pretty or witty. My words get all twisted. And...” She turned away from his gaze before she started to cry. “I am ugly.”_

_“Brienne,” Jaime sighed. “I will not lie to you. You are not beautiful.” Her heart broke at his words. Stupid feelings. “But you are strong and smart. You are kind and generous. If I was not locked in this in between hell, and I was not already in love with another, I believe you would fascinate me.” She tilted her head back in his direction. His eyes were soft. “You already do.”_

Two months before her sixteenth name day, she worked up the courage to ask him about the rumors a couple of spirits whispered in her ear. _“The woman you love,” she bit her bottom lip and prayed these ghosts were merely gossips. “Was it your twin?”_

_His eyes flashed. Her heart sank and her stomach rolled. It was true. He must have seen her expression because his turned guarded. Walls that hadn't been between them in years built back up. “Yes.”_

_She nodded. “And her children...”_

_“They are mine.”_

_She wanted to throw up but she swallowed it back. _It did not matter,_ she reminded herself. He was dead and she was never going to act on her growing feelings for him. She was a silly kid falling in love with a complicated man. A man who would have been over ten years her senior had they met under normal circumstances... these were not normal. He watched her closely. Brienne forced herself to look back at him. “I shouldn't have asked.”_

_He frowned at her. What else could she say?_

The conversations between them changed after that. She couldn't fool herself any longer, and she couldn't stop seeing the two Lannisters together in her mind. She had only seen the Queen once, but she knew she was gorgeous. A mirror image of her twin. Golden perfection. Her dreams which were once romantic, if not childlike, turned sinister. Jaime no longer looked at her with something close to affection while she stumbled through a love confession which he returned; now the dreams were of her watching him in the arms of his twin, laughing at her innocent admission. 

Brienne knew he would not laugh at her. He had already told her that he would have noticed her had met in a different way, but her mind could not shake the image of the two lions seeing her as wounded prey. He confronted her after almost two weeks, demanding to know what was going on in that head of hers.

_“Nothing,” she huffed as she paced her bedchamber floor. “I have merely been occupied. Father has arranged another betrothal. The two have been communicating through ravens for the over the past several moons. I just found out about the betrothal recently.”_

_His eyes widened and he fell heavily to the chair behind him, “To whom? Who has he promised your hand?”_

__Why do you care? Do you care?_ was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it back. Getting her hopes up over him was stupid. She was not going to give into her foolish feelings. “Ser Humfrey Wagstaff.”_

_Jaime's eyes flashed and his fists clenched at his side. “Break it.”_

_Her back straightened. “No.”_

_He stood swiftly, coming to stand inches from her face. Something unreadable showed in his eyes. It was fire and anger and... she did not know, but it made her heart pound. Jaime shook his head and left._

<<>><<>>

Jaime grimaced as the old knight stared Brienne down. His face was sagging and full of wrinkles. His mouth was pulled tight and his eyes... Jaime gritted his teeth, grinding them so hard it hurt. Ser Wagstaff's brown eyes were cruel. Selwyn stood next to his daughter. The Evenstar's demeanor was not one of a man who was happily presenting his daughter to her future husband. There was a tightness to his shoulders. His jaw looked to be as clenched as Jaime's.

“I have heard stories,” The aged man said without a hint of warmth. “I do not care that you are ugly.” Jaime wanted to punch this man so hard he would not wake up from the blow. “I expect you to do your duties. You will give me heirs and wear the proper clothes. No wife of mine will wield a sword or pretend to be a man.”

She jutted out her chin, her brilliant blue eyes flashed with rage. “And if I refuse to do as you say, my Lord?”

His brown eyes flickered to Selwyn in disgust. “I will make you understand your place.” His mouth twisted, “As your father should have done.”

Jaime heard the implications in his words. He would beat her into submission. He would break her down until she did as she was told. He would use her to his own desires, until nothing of the amazing woman Jaime had come to know existed. Selwyn rose to his full height. His giant fist tightening at his side until the skin was nearly white. He took a step forward, but Brienne moved into his path. 

“Lord Wagstaff,” she said with more confidence than he had ever heard from her while speaking to a living soul. “I find you repugnant. I will only submit to a man that can beat me in battle.” Jaime's eyes widened and he grinned ferociously at the old bastard. “Do you think you can do that, ser?”

“You would let your daughter make such a demand?” Wagstaff roared at Selwyn.

Selwyn's cheeks were red from anger, “It seems to me, Ser Wagstaff, every father should demand such an act. How will I know if you can protect my Starlight, if you can not beat her properly. She is fierce. She will put up as good fight as any who wish to _harm_ ,” he stared pointedly at the old knight, “her would.”

The old knight blustered at that comment. “I will accept your challenge, girl. But I will not go easy on you.”

“Nor I you,” Brienne replied with a slightly manic smile. Jaime shivered and cheered her on. 

The fight started as soon as both were suited up. Selwyn placed his hands on Brienne's shoulders, looking her in the eyes. “I am sorry for bringing him here as your betrothed. If he wins,” she opened her mouth, but he continued without giving her the chance to speak. “Which I do not believe he will, but if he does. I will not let him lay a hand upon you.”

She smiled genuinely at him, “I know. But you need not worry, father, for I do not plan to lose.”

Jaime watched her lower her helm and walk into the middle of the training yard. Ser Wagstaff was out of practice for sure. Jaime could tell from the labored way he moved in his armor, and Brienne was young, strong and talented. The aging knight still did manage to catch her nose. The unmistakable sound of the bone breaking caused Jaime to rush forward, his hands shaking, his back tensing. He stopped though when Brienne finally showed everyone how good she was. Her blows were precise and brutal. She landed a fist hard to his midsection, cracking some ribs. Her sword hilt connected with his collarbone, another broken bone. She swung her leg out and sent him to the ground. The tip of her blade at his throat.

“You are too manly for me anyway,” he hissed low so only Brienne could hear him. Jaime heard as well.

“Yield,” Brienne leaned in close, her knee at the old knight's side, “then leave.”

Jaime watched her get up and pull the helm from her head. Sweat covered her forehead, making her hair stand up in all directions. Blood tinted her face from the broken nose. Her bottom lip was redder than usual. He swallowed. He longed to wipe the crimson from her face and kiss her deeply. He wanted to claim her as his own. The need inside him made the air tingle. He pulled his eyes from her and looked down at the ground.

What the fuck was going on?

<<>><<>>

She sat up in her bed quickly. The room was dark, and she could only see an outline of someone else with her. Brienne strained her eyes, trying to make out the shape of the body. It was dark fog, a mass of mist. Her stomach clenched in fear. She's had heard of shadow people before. When a festival came to town, a lot of woods witches and mummers made their way into the ports. Bright colors and different types of people flooded in, bringing stories and joy. One of them had been a gypsy; she was passing through Tarth with a group of other fortune tellers. Brienne had been fascinated. She had still been quite young at the time and her gift had started up in earnest. The gypsy with silvery gray eyes had recognized her ability, and had warned her about spirits. 

_Some will come in need, some will come in times of confusion, but some will come to do harm._ The wise old woman said stoically. _Be cautious, my child. You have a great gift. Some will want to use it for evil gains. These creatures are not human. They will appear as shadows. They feed upon fear and can take your mind..._ She touched Brienne's hand briefly. 

Brienne wished she had asked more questions. But she had never seen one before. Now, as the mist moved toward her, she wished she never had... She fumbled for a match to light the candle residing by her bed. She needed light to banish the thing. She didn't know how she knew that a simple flame would help, but she did. She heard the voice from the past, _Light is your friend, my child. Surround yourself with light._ Her hand shook. Her stomach rolled again. She glanced at the mist. It was creeping towards her slowly. A whispering voice hissed in her head. Dark thoughts filled her mind. 

_Not needed... you are not needed... unloved... will never be loved... ugly.... will always be ugly... _Nothing_... you are nothing... _

Tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, the match lit and she held the flame to the wick. The tiny light flickered and danced but held true. She took the candle and moved it toward the mass... it was gone. She jumped from the bed and searched her room. The mist seemed to blend into the shadows, disappearing from her view. Her heart pounded roughly in her chest. The hand holding the candle stick shook. She didn't want to stay in her chamber alone. The lingering thoughts and the heart stopping fear chilled her blood. 

She walked to the window, the moon was still high in the sky. It was too late to wander the castle and she didn't really want to pace the halls. Gently, she placed the candle back on the small table and climbed back in bed. She pulled the curtains closed, blocking out the world and buried deeply under the covers. Brienne kept telling herself it was nothing. Only words. Nothing happened. The mist did nothing. She was fine... but in the back of her mind, she knew, something had found her. 

It would never be the same again...

<<>><<>>

Cersei gasped. The hard cock pushed harder into her, filling her up, making her moan. She looked at herself in the mirror standing across from her. She gripped the dark hair, pulling the head to the side. Her jade eyes locked on the image. She dragged her lips across the skin of his neck. His hips jerked hard, slamming her back against the wall. 

“Ooh,” she moaned. She loved it. Loved the feel of his desire for her. It made him weak and weak men were easy to control. “Yes, fuck me harder.”

His thick fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass. She frowned at her reflection. That would leave bruises. He should know better. Her nails dug into his scalp. “Fuck,” Kettleback groaned. His slobbering kisses covered her chest. She grimaced. She arched her back to give him access to her breast. If he is going to stay at her teat, at least he can go to the areas that demanded attention. His chapped lips closed around her nipple. “You are so beautiful my Queen.”

“Yes,” she clenched her inner muscles around his cock. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“Fuck,” his hips snapped rougher. The action hit that part in her which made her breathlessly moan. “I want your cunt around my cock every moment of every day.” 

The devotion he had for her was a drug. She got high on the control. Her insides turned to liquid heat. “You would do anything for me, wouldn't you?”

“Yes, my Queen!” He grunted into her other breast. 

“Tell me,” she demanded. “Tell me you will do anything for me.”

“I will do anything for you, my Queen.”

“Yes,” she hissed, dragging her nails across his skin. She watched in the looking glass as blood red lines followed her claws. “Fuck me hard.”

He did as he was told. He moved within her roughly. Hard and fast. Pushing her back into the cold, solid wall behind her. Her ankles locked at the base of his spine, pulling him into her with her legs. White heat flared within her. Her peak gained momentum, building like a horse running through her at full speed. She kissed him. His mouth was flavored with the wine he drank before coming to _guard_ her. She sucked his tongue between her lips. 

His thrusts became erratic. She can tell he was about to reach his end. She wasn't going to let him finish before she found her own release. She took his right hand off her ass and placed it between their bodies, where they were joined. Kettleback knew what she wanted and rubbed at the tiny nerve center at the top of her thighs. That's all it took to sent her over the edge. She bit him on the shoulder hard to stifle her screams of pleasure. He pulled out just in time, yanking his cock from her cunt, and releasing his seed onto the fabric of her dress. 

Cersei panted, glancing at the looking glass across from her again, it cracked, splintering into fragments. For the briefest of moments as she stared into the pieces, she could have sworn... It was her face with deep manly features... _Jaime_.... She shook her head and the face in the mirror was hers again. She must have had too much wine.

<<>><<>>

Jaime's heart broke, standing there in a bedchamber he was so familiar with. His beautiful, cruel twin- the woman he thought would always be his in every way- wrapped her legs around another man. Clawed at his back, smiled as his cock moved between her thighs. His stomach twisted with anger and pain.

He finally found a way back to her. He finally found a way to see his beloved sister, after four years wandering around aimlessly or being with Brienne... Of hovering between worlds alone and he found Cersei with another man. Another member of the Kingsguard. He stood by the looking glass, watching. His anger grew with each moment. His body seemed to vibrate with rage. The joined couple moaned and panted. Clung to each other. Cersei watched herself in the mirror. Her smirking face, mocking him without her knowledge. 

_How long?_ He wanted to scream at her. _How many? Have I always been a fool?_

The air around him warped with energy. He felt it coursing through his veins. It was powerful. He felt the looking glass to the side of him shake. The glass started to break... As Kettleback pulled out of his twin, spending his seed on the fabric of her dress, the mirror shattered. He moved over to step in front of it and Cersei's eyes met his. The matching set held for a moment. Her face paled as he faded out of the chamber. 

He returned to the familiar beach at the base of Evenfall. He looked up toward her window. A flickering could be seen. His anger started to weaken. Jaime closed his eyes. In the morning he would talk to her. He would ask her if she had ever heard of another spirit breaking glass from rage. Now he just walked the beach. He needed to think about all he had seen. 

<<>><<>>

She sat on her bed, uneasy. Her eyes flickered over to where the shadow had been just the night before. Her hands shook and she gripped the sheets to still them. She jumped when Jaime stormed in. Brienne breathed a sigh of relief. Her fear started to release with him there and her heart began racing for a completely different reason. Her feelings, even with all she now knew, had only deepened for the golden Lannister lion. 

“Jaime,” she smiled at him. His green eyes were conflicted. He looked happy to see her but there was an underlining current of wrath as well. She licked her lips. What had she done to make him angry? “Are- are you alright?”

“I have been a fool,” he stared at her. Her mouth went dry. “I have been a fool for so long.”

“What...what do you mean?”

His mouth twisted in self-hatred, “My sweet sister.” Her heart sank. “She has been fucking other men. I have had the _great_ pleasure of seeing her take another man's cock. I think I broke a looking glass from feeling so much rage.”

Despite her heart breaking at her own folly, she felt deeply for his pain. She slid off the bed, walking over to him. “I am sorry. I know how much you love her.”

Jaime stepped nearer to her. His body so close. She wished she could feel his heat. Brienne wished she could feel him, hug him, comfort him and get comfort in return. He tilted his head slightly to the right. “I have been walking the beaches waiting for the sun to come up, thinking it over.” He took another step closer. Something in the air changed. It felt alive. “The woman I loved was a mirage. A dream to make me bend. She manipulated me as she did the man she had between her legs last night. My feelings for her... was it love?”

“You loved her,” Brienne felt the weight of her words. “Your twin has been taught to use her body in the way I have been taught to use my sword. A weapon is deadly no matter what type it is.” She watched his expression melt into sadness. “I am sorry that you saw her with someone else. I wish I could offer you more than that.”

“Brienne...” he moved his right hand to her cheek. “I wish so many things as well.” His hand curled up. “As angry as I was and still am with her, I could not stop thinking about you. I wished to see you right away. I wished to hear your voice and be close to you. I wish I knew how soft your skin is.” Her insides shook, her stomach flipped and her heart galloped. “The day you beat Ser Wagstaff,” he licked his lips and she did the same. “I felt something for you I have never felt for anyone other than Cersei. I wanted to kiss you.”

“Jaime...” _Please do not do this_ she wanted to beg him. _Please do not give me something when nothing can come from it._

“I know,” he laughed bitterly. “I know.” His self-hating smile was back. “I really am a fool.”

She sighed, bowing her head, “So I am.”

<<>><<>>

“You are magnificent.” The new spirit looked at her. His dark haired head cocked to the side. A slight grin filled his face with pure interest, perfect teeth glinted in the light. “So tall. Long legs... Hmm, strong... Beautiful eyes. A man could get lost in those eyes.” The man moved toward Brienne and bowed low in front of her. “I wish I was not dead.”

Jaime gritted his teeth together. He has been wandering in and out of her life now for four years. He had seen her grow and change. He had come to think the thrice damned God of death left him here for the sole purpose of watching out for her, and possibly fall in love with her. He took protecting her seriously... the other part he hadn't dwelled on much. He couldn't. His blood heated in his veins at the display before him. This fucking lecherous spirit was looking at her like a piece of venison, dressed up and mouth watering. 

His hands clenched at his side. “Talk to her with respect.” He hissed out. The ghost turned to him. “She is a Lady and should be treated as one.”

The brown eyes of the other phantom twinkled with amusement. “Oh, dear me.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I did not know. Forgive me, Ser. I would never move in on someone else's true love.” He turned back to Brienne, whose eyes were wide. “Unless the lady asked. I am very open to many experiences.”

Brienne covered her mouth to hide her laugher. Jaime shuddered. The ghost laughed as well. The sexual tension in the room went away and the two continued to laugh at his expense. It was clear Jaime was missing the joke, but he loved hearing her laugh so freely that he decided to let it go. “Mikael.” She said shaking her head. “You can go now. I believe you have traumatized him enough. Do you have a message for your wife? It is her name day soon, right?”

Mikael nodded, suddenly very serious. “Yes. If you could send her my love. And maybe a daisy. It is her...”

“Favorite,” she nodded. “I know. You have my word. I will give her your message.”

“Thank you, dear Brienne.” He stepped closer. “You have blossomed into a magnificent woman. That was not a lie.”

She flushed deeply. “And you are still a flirtatious rogue.”

“Aye!” he laughed again. “That I am. It is a wonder I found someone as perfect for me as Tosha.” He bowed again. 

Jaime watched the ghost evaporate into a light mist. He looked directly at Brienne, who was writing down a quick message on a piece of parchment. “You knew him.”

She nodded, her focus still on her task. “He comes every year around this time so I can send a missive to his wife.” Brienne looked at him over her shoulder, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Why? Did he embarrass you?”

“I thought you were being harassed and you knew...”

“Jaime,” she leaned against the edge of the table, facing him. She crossed her arms and smiled more gently at him. “I have been dealing with spirits since I was but a child. I have seen so much. Mikael is harmless and was mostly mocking you.” Her cheeks reddened. “I know he was not serious about your feelings. And you should know that I can take care of myself.”

“You are lying to yourself.”

“About what?”

“About my feelings.” He crossed the room to stand in front of her. “You know that I feel for you.” Their hands hovered next to each other. He could almost sense her skin touching him. “Brienne...”

She shook her head as if to clear it. He stepped back and left the room. These emotions between them were pointless, but he was getting swallowed up by them.

<<>><<>>

Brienne tossed and turned in her bed as her dream overwhelmed her. She was in a place she'd never been before but she knew exactly where she was going. Her body was walking with purpose. She had to do this. It was the only way- people would die if she didn't. The armor on her body felt wrong. It hadn't been used in a while. There were lions on the breastplate and it was gold. The candles in the throne room were flickering, dancing. 

Blood dripped on the floor from the tip of her blade. Leaving a trail. Showing her path to anyone who wished to follow. The king sat on the throne. Aerys... It was the Mad King! “Burn them all, burn them all,” He was mumbling, angry, insane. He leapt to his feet. “Whose blood is that? Is that the blood of the traitor, Tywin Lannister?”

“No,” she said- but it wasn't her voice. It was Jaime's. Oh Gods. She was in Jaime's memory. She was him. Everything he felt, she felt. Everything he thought, she thought. “It is the blood of your pyromancer. No one is going to die by wildfire on this day.”

The King trembled, relieving himself as he ran. Jaime struck. The blade slicing into the body of the Mad King. Blood pooled on the ground, thick and red. On his last breath, King Aerys stared up at Jaime and whispered, “Burn them all,” before he fell onto the floor at Jaime's feet.

Brienne screamed, shooting up in her bed. Jaime rushed forward. “Are you alright?”

She stared at him, seeing the horror play out in her mind. She finally understood everything, had seen the darkest moment of his life and whispered the words that still rang in her head, “Burn them all.”

He turned white.

<<>><<>>

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/2yGbMr6)  



	5. When Darkness Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Her knees were against her chest and her arms were wrapped tightly around them as she stared at him. Her expressive blue eyes were wide with understanding, horror and sadness. Brienne looked shaken to her very core._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta is gone for the next several weeks so this chapter has been only edited by me... sorry in advance for misspellings and bad grammar. I do hope you enjoy the chapter all the same though. Thank you for all that have read and commented on the story. You all brighten my day, my week, my month and my existence. 
> 
> <<>><<>>
> 
> Thank you Ro Nordmann for the beautiful art work!!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/181950571@N02/48342483962/in/dateposted/)

<<>><<>>

Her knees were against her chest and her arms were wrapped tightly around them as she stared at him. Her expressive blue eyes were wide with understanding, horror and sadness. Brienne looked shaken to her very core. He licked his lips. He knew if he could feel as a normal person could, his stomach would be knotting up to the point of sickness and his palms would be sweating. It had been years since anyone had said those words to him. The last time he heard them he was standing over a cooling corpse with glassy violet eyes. 

“What did you say?” he asked even though he never wished to hear her utter those words to him again. He never wanted to hear those words from anyone again. 

“Burn them all,” she whispered. Her chin dropped to her knees and her eyes welled up with tears. “Oh Jaime...” She sniffled, two tears fell from her eyes. He wanted to wipe them away. To hold her and be held by her. “Why did you never tell anyone?”

“Tell them what exactly?” His voice was strained and tight. Did she know? How could she know? “Where did you hear that from? Why are you looking at me that way?”

“I was there,” she answered. Her voice shook and she straightened her knees, scooting closer to him on her bed. He was acutely aware of where they were and if he wasn't just a lost spirit how he wanted things to unfold between them. It was getting more and more difficult to deny that he was in love with this girl that he watched grow into a special and amazing woman. Jaime was also becoming aware of how far Cersei was from his thoughts. A part of him would always love her, and what they had, the children they made together, but the feelings he was experiencing with Brienne were unlike anything he had ever known. He cursed the Gods for the cruel fate he had been dealt. Of course he would finally find someone that he loved- someone he wasn't related to- and he would never be able to act on those feelings because he was caught between life and death. She tucked a loose lock of flaxen hair behind her ear. “I was you.”

It didn't make sense to him. The words weren't connecting in his mind. What was she talking about? “I am not sure I understand...”

“I know why you killed the Mad King. I know what happened. I know _everything_ because I was there.” Her teeth scraped at her bottom lip nervously. “I do not understand why you never told anyone. You saved the city. You _are_ a man with honor and you let them call you _Kingslayer_. Why? Why would you not tell the truth of that day?”

“You think the honorable Ned Stark cared for why I slew my king? Brienne,” he looked away from her large eyes and stared at the comforter between them. “I _am_ all the things they call me. I _am_ a kingslayer. I _am_ an oathbreaker. And because of that I _am_ a man without honor.”

“That is not true,” she shook her head. “Jaime, you saved Kings Landing. You did what you had to and that makes you a true knight. Maybe truer than those that are praised for their deeds. You are a good man and you kept an oath to those that could not defend themselves. You protected the innocents just as you vowed to do. It is cruel that they never knew that they should thank you for what you had done for them.” Brienne sighed and he closed his eyes. That sound would haunt him. It was light and full of pride. Pride in _him_. When was the last time someone was proud of Jaime Lannister? “I am happy that I know.” He looked at her and she smiled softly at him. 

“How did you... You said you were there. How?”

“I do not really know,” she shrugged. “I thought it was a dream at first. It felt real, but I did not recognized anything. I was walking down a hall in unfamiliar armor. Gold with lions on the breastplate...”

“My Lannister armor.” Jaime nodded, thinking about how it felt when he put it on. It had been so long since he had worn it. “I wore it that day because I knew what I was about to do would go against the Kingsguard oath. No one remembers that. Everyone believes that I was in my white cloak. It is one of the many things that are wrong in the stories that get told about that day.”

“Yes,” she blinked back tears. “I know now many of those stories I heard about you were false.” She swallowed, “I walked into the throne room and there was the Mad King. He was muttering.” Her tongue rolled against her lips. “He kept saying burn them all. Then he asked whose blood was on the sword, if it was your father's... that's when you spoke and I realized I was in your memory.” 

“King Aerys was obsessed with wildfire. Have you ever heard of it?” She nodded. “He would have bathed in it, if he dared of course. He had hidden caches of it through out the city. I knew he would use them. He would have killed children, women, and men that had done nothing. The King warned that if anyone took Kings Landing from him, they would rule over charred bones and ash.” His gaze bore into hers. It felt so good to share this with someone. To open up and pour his soul to someone that would understand. It was almost poetic that the only person that could see him now when no one else could; would also be the only person that would see into his soul when no one else dared to try. “What he asked me to do... could you have killed your father? Stood by and let all those people perish?”

“No,” she said. “I could not.”

“I have lived with this secret for so long. Everyone hates me for that one act and I consider it one of my best,” he laughed a little bitterly. “Ironic is it not?”

Brienne's blue eyes shined at him with tears and love. He finally let himself put a name to what he saw in her eyes, what he knew would be in his own. “You do not have to carry this secret alone any longer. I will share your burden with you and I will hold the truth in my heart.”

“I wish I had met you before...” Jaime wanted to rage at the Gods. He wanted to fight them for giving him this wonderful person knowing that they could never be. 

Her expression turned sad, pensive and she picked at the material of her comforter between them. “You would not have looked my way. I was but two and ten when we first met and I was hardly a beauty then. Now I am even less of one.”

“While you were two and ten, I would not feel as I do now. But I do not agree, My Lady, that as you grew I would not have looked your way,” he stared at her. Her hair was falling to cover her face- a face he would deem ugly if he did not know her. Her hands were large- almost as large as his- and were gentle in ways other more delicate women were not. Her smile was all horse teeth and big lips- but made his stomach flutter because it was so rare to see a true one. Her body was long limbs and corded muscles- he longed to feel that strength wrapped around him. “I believe I would have been interested in you right away. You are unlike any woman I have ever met.”

Her breath caught, “Most men do not care for unusual women.”

“Have you learned nothing, Brienne,” he grinned at her. “I am not most men. There is no one like me, I am quite unique myself.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “There are no others like you, Jaime.”

She moved even closer to him. Her supple and warm body within reach. It vexed him that he would never know just how warm she could get under his touch. Her large hand hovered over his and he felt the air crackle in a different way. It felt alive and like if he tried hard enough he may be able to bridge the divide. He looked up and saw her brow furrow in concentration. She appeared to be trying to reach out to him and he made up his mind to meet her half way. He lifted his hand and pressed his palm close to hers. Their skin touched and he... he thought he felt... Her eyes widened.

“I can feel you,” she whispered in awe. She met his astonished gaze and grinned. “I can feel you, Jaime.”

He flexed his fingers and caressed hers. His heart jumped in his throat. In a flash his surrounded by a greenish glow in a rundown shack. His arms and legs felt like lead but he could feel everything. His heart was pounding in his chest, his stomach gnawed at him in hunger, his tongue felt heavy and dry in his mouth. He felt alive! A woman he had never seen before turned toward him. Her round shaped eyes met his. The color was was unique...almost silver. She smiled at him. “Hello, Jaime...”

Her voice was a song on the wind. Before he could ask any questions, he was back with Brienne. Her face was paler than usual and her eyes were full of fear. 

“What happened?”

He leaned closer, his hand pressed more firmly to hers. “I do not know...”

<<>><<>>

The weather outside the disheveled hut turned dark and stormy. Winds blew hard against the wood that was already on the brink of falling down. The witch set about strengthening the protection spells that were in place. Her ancient words were whispered in a tongue few knew and even fewer spoke. Her hands touched different parts of the wooden structure to bind the weak panels together. A slight glow warmed the planks fortifying them against the storm. A bolt of lightning ripped through the sky, illuminating the small shack. She shivered, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders tighter. 

Once she was sure the building would hold she turned back to the cauldron, mixing the potion to her satisfaction. The liquid bubbled and popped, steam curled around her fingers holding the spoon. She lifted the utensil up, checking the consistence. Movement out of the corner of her eyes made her turn her head. Her mouth pulled up at the corners. Jaime's mouth moved in silent words, his breathing changed and his hand twitched against the rough material of the bedding. 

She walked closer to him. His mouth continued to move, his face became more animated. The woman sat on her stool, holding the amulet and watched the man on the rundown cot closely. His eyes were moving wildly under his lids. He broke through for a moment. She wasn't expecting that, but it did make her breathe a little easier. It meant Jaime and Brienne were connecting. It wouldn't be long now. Soon she would met the girl that she saw all those years ago. Soon their destinies would be revealed to them. 

Jaime's eyes opened. Green orbs flickered over his surroundings. He turned his head in her direction. His face showed his surprise. She sat up a little straighter. Her silvery gaze met his. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. She smiled at him. “Hello, Jaime...”

The man on the bed jerked a little at hearing his name spoken by someone he didn't know. He swallowed roughly. A thousand thoughts and questions flickered in his eyes, but before he could say anything, he was under the spell again. She sighed. She hoped he would tell Brienne what he saw in that short amount of time. She hoped he realized what it meant before the darkness came around again. She tilted her head toward the roof, closing her eyes tightly. The shadows were gathering around the young warrior. The witch could feel the energy changing and it frightened her more than she would like to admit.

<<>><<>>

Brienne felt the wind change as she stood on the balcony. Holding her hand up to block the strains of her hair from hitting her in the face, she stared at the horizon. Dark clouds, black and foreboding, gathered blocking the sun. The Stormlands were going to live up to the name today. She looked down at the waves crashing against the rocks. The sea was normally calm, even when storms raged, but this one looked to cause destruction. She shivered a little as the wind picked up again. Turning on her heel, she walked back into her chamber, shutting the door behind her. 

The sun's last rays were dying on her floor. The shadows around her became long and darker. She lit several candles to warm up the space and bring light back to the room. Ever since that night with the shadow, she never felt too comfortable in the dark. She sat at the writing table in the corner of the room and dipped the quill into the ink. The tip of the metal point scratched at the parchment as she wrote her thoughts down. Her mind could not let go of Jaime's memory and of feeling his touch. It shouldn't be possible. A spirit was not corporal. She had never been able to feel one before. 

Even when on the rare occasion one tried to take her body in desperation, she never really felt _them_. It was more like a being submerged in ice. The body went completely cold and the entity would wrestle with her for control. Only once did she lose that war. It was the first time a ghost tried to do it and Brienne had no idea what was happening. The woman had been in her early thirties and had just given birth. Brienne's mind had been filled with thoughts of her baby and how she needed to get back to him. The innocent little angel. The tiny soul that had been destined to be hated and weak because he was born a dwarf. Thoughts of her husband's reaction to her death and to the child that would not be perfect caused her heart to ache. She wanted to help the woman, but she had been so young herself and didn't know how. The longer the spirit resided in her body, the weaker the hold became and she was able to take full control again.

After she managed to pushed the spirit out of her, she wept for an entire night, hoping the young child would survive and find love with his family. Brienne never did find out who that ghost was. All she could really recall was the color of her hair- gold. It was pure gold. And the red of her dressing gown. She faded away before she would talk with her and had never returned again. But that experience taught her something. It taught her how to be careful and how to steel herself against a desperate soul.

It had frightened her for a long time and she built defenses around her mind. With time the experience didn't scare her as much because she started to understand what was happening. Dealing with grieving mothers was hard for her because it always made her long for her own. Morganne Tarth was never far from her thoughts when she saw a young mother pass over. 

She still kept her defenses up even now. Jaime has been the only one to really break through them. She paused in her writing. He was changing her life in so many ways. She rested her chin on her palm. Brienne did not know what to do about her feelings for him and now that she had felt him... it only made her want him more.

A gust of wind blew hard against her window and she shivered again. She hoped all the people on the island got to safety before the storm really let loose. Brienne looked down at the parchment she had been writing on and sighed. Her thoughts were just as disoriented on the page as they were in her head. It all circled back to one thing: there was something different about Jaime. She just couldn't figure out what it was. Why didn't the Stranger come for him? How could she share his thoughts? How could she feel him? Why did he seem so much more real to her than any other ghost she had helped before?

The questions had no answers and there wasn't anyone she could ask. She stood up and paced her floor. She wished he was with her now. She wanted to try and touch him again. She wanted to know if she could or if that one moment was all they would have. Brienne hoped not. She longed to keep the connection alive. She scraped the flesh of her bottom lip. Maybe it was best if they never tried again... it would only make her hope for more and that was dangerous. 

Heavy rain pelted against the clear panels of her windows. She watched the water run in rivers down the glass. Her walked over and touched it, tracing the tracks of water. The lights around her started flickering and the space grew colder. Her body shook against the sudden change in temperature. She ran her hands up and down her arms trying to warm up. The tiny hairs on her body started standing at attention. Brienne's mind started to get cloudy and she swayed on her feet. Blackness edged into her vision. She blinked rapidly, fear crept into her blood stream. 

She felt sick all of the sudden. Her stomach rolled violently. She placed her hand flat against the wall as she tried to make it to her bed. She bent at the waist, taking deep breaths, trying desperately to calm herself. The ground felt like it was raising to met her. She only had a split second to realize she was falling down and had almost no time to brace herself. Brienne flung her hand out, pulling her covers down onto the ground a beat before she hit the floor with a thud. 

//--\\\//--\\\

Evenhall castle had many rooms that were empty and unused. Jaime found several when wandering through the halls in the dead of night while Brienne slept. He would often slip in and look at all the items that were gathering dust and cobwebs. One room housed old wooden toys. It had clearly been a boy's chamber at one time. Brienne had mentioned that after her brother drown, her father had the servants lock up his room. He couldn't bare to see his son's possessions and didn't want anyone else to touch them. 

_“His grief over his only son's passing,” she said as she plucked the petals off a flower. “Was hard for me to witness. Galladon did not want to leave me. He was scared father would never stop being sad and that he would leave me alone.” She looked up at him with those gorgeous blue eyes and smiled sadly. “I did get left for a while. Father tried his best...” She shrugged, dropping the stem of the flower into the lush grass she was sitting on. “Eventually it got better. But I know that deep down, he still thinks about the son he lost. I do not blame him. I think of Galladon a lot too. I miss him.”_

Jaime walked around the dark room. His mind kept flashing back to the hut. It was only a moment, but he could still see everything in his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He couldn't stop seeing those silver eyes and the green glow. He couldn't stop the hope from gripping him that he might not be dead... but if he wasn't where was he? He clenched his fists at his side. How could he get back?

How did he get there at all? Nothing made sense. The only thing he knew for sure was that when he touched Brienne everything changed. But then again, he already knew that. Ever since he ended up in her life, he has been seeing things differently. She has been a lantern in the darkness, guiding him and lighting his way. Jaime hoped that if he was still alive then maybe there was a chance... 

His shoulders sagged. He was being ridiculous. It was probably nothing... right?

 _'Help her.'_

Jaime's eyes snapped open and he looked around him. That voice... he knew that voice... from where though?

_'Jaime, you have to help her.'_

A chill went down his spine...

Mother...

//--\\\//--\\\

Brienne was lost in darkness. Her arms were outstretched in front of her as she tried to feel her way out of what she believed was a long tunnel. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. She felt like something was behind her. Breath, cold and clammy, puffed against her neck. She quivered in fear. Phantom hands grabbed at her. She jumped and started running. She had to get out but she didn't know where she was. A light started glowing in the distance and she raced toward it. Her feet started slipping on the floor as water began seeping from the walls. 

She screamed as the hands grabbed her ankles, trying to stop her from moving forward. Brienne fought hard and ran even harder. Light. She needed to get to the light. It seemed to grow dimmer and her heart jumped into her throat. “No!” she screamed. “Come back!”

The hall narrowed and tightened. She was breathing heavily, pushing herself as hard as she could. She finally made it to the glowing candle. There was a glass between her and the light. She pounded against it, desperate to get inside. Needing to be surrounded by the soft illumination. There was a family just beyond the clear panel... her family. Her father was smiling softly at a petite blonde with Brienne's eyes. Her mother! 

Brienne felt tears gather in her eyes and she pounded harder. “Please! Mother! Father! Let me in!”

A tall young man dressed in blue armor entered the hall, his face was covered in dirt and a giant smile. _Galladon…_ Her father stood, beaming at his son. They spoke but Brienne couldn't hear the words. Two girls ran in behind her brother. They were beautiful and small like her mother. Her sisters... these would have been her sisters. 

The tears that were gathering in her eyes fell down her cheeks and she stopped her assault on the glass. They looked so happy... but where was she? A sudden realization hit her- she wasn't there. She wasn't needed. The smile on her father's face was one she hadn't seen since Galladon died. It was larger and brighter than any she had ever received in all the years he has been gone.

_They would have been better if you were the one that died in the cradle..._

She rested her head against the glass. “No...” she whispered. 

_Your father needed a son... He needed an heir..._

“I am his heir,” she raised her head and looked at the family again. 

_You will never be loved... You will be alone... Nothing... just give up..._

Her tears flowed faster. It felt like she was being choked on them. “I...”

“My sweet child...” She turned her head toward the soft voice. A beautiful blonde woman stood there. Her eyes were the deepest green, her mouth was a perfect pale pink. She was dressed in a deep red with gold thread along the bodice. “You must not give up.”

Brienne looked into her eyes. They were so familiar. The woman held her hand out to her and Brienne grasped it. She moved toward the female and away from the darkness. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw black spider like fingers reaching for her. Brienne shook in renewed fear. Words kept entering her mind in that hissing voice.

 _You know the truth... You are wicked... unloved... ugly..._

A delicate hand turned her chin so that she was looking at her and not the shadows that wanted her. The woman with the familiar eyes smiled at her. “The words are meant to hurt. They are meant to make you weak. They are not truth. Do not give into your fears. That only makes them,” she pointed behind Brienne. “Stronger.”

“What,” she started. The hissing was increasing again. She dropped to her knees and slapped her hands over her ears. “What if it is the truth?”

The woman knelt in front of her and shook her head. “You are good and there are people that love you. You must believe that. You must be stronger.”

“How do you know?” She wanted to cry more but she couldn't. There was a war going on around her, inside her. She looked down and felt the shadow hands scratch along her skin. There were no marks, but it felt like fire under her flesh. Her scream got caught in her throat. “Please help me...”

The spirit touched the glass and a flood of light filled the hall. The hissing in her head screeched in terror and faded away. Brienne looked up at the ghost and saw her surrounded by Brienne's mother, brother and sisters. All glowed brightly. All staring behind her with fierce expressions. Her own personal army. She wiped at the tears still on her cheeks. The woman with the golden hair and green eyes smiled at her.

Her mind worked quicker now that she wasn't fighting the shadows. “I know you...”

“Yes,” the woman nodded. “I came to you in my most desperate hour. I took what was not mine and for that I am most sorry. I never wanted to frighten you.”

Brienne stood. “I forgave you long ago. I wish I could have helped you, but I did not understand. You left so quickly. I never even got your name.”

A smile, one Brienne knew well, curled the spirit's lips. “My name is Joanna. I was once Lady of Casterly Rock. I believe you know my son.”

“Jaime...” she whispered a moment before she was pulled from the hall in a flash. She blinked. Her head was spinning and throbbing. Brienne touched her forehead and her fingertips came back bloody. Movement in the corner of her chamber made her turn her head quickly. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the contents of her dinner from reappearing in front of her. Jaime stood before her, his face looked stricken. He knelt at her side and placed his hand against her cheek. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She could still feel him. “Jaime,” she whispered again before passing out.

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/2yGbMr6)  



	6. Welcomings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tyrion held the parchment tightly in his small fists. There was a knot- the size of a boulder- in his stomach and it was growing. He read the lines, for what felt like the hundredth time, hoping some of the wording would change _this_ time. The ink was starting to smudge from the oils of his fingers but the words there stayed the same._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was brought to my attention that I made a huge error in the timeline of ages with the last chapter and I freaked out. So I spent a lot of time thinking about the characters and where they are. For those that would like to know here is a breakdown:
> 
> Jaime was 22 when put in the "magic coma" (currently age wise 26-27)  
> Brienne is almost 17  
> Tyrion is 14  
> Joffrey is 8, Myrcella is 6 and Tommen is 5 (he was just born before Jaime was taken and Joffrey had just turned 4)
> 
> Thank you for taking this ride with me. Thank you for commenting, leaving kudos and reading. It means the world to me.
> 
> //**\\\
> 
> Thank you to my beta: merrymaya for always being there for me!
> 
> //**\\\
> 
> Thank you for the lovely banner, Ro Nordmann. I adore it.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/181950571@N02/48342483962/in/photostream/)

//--\\\//--\\\

Tyrion held the parchment tightly in his small fists. There was a knot- the size of a boulder- in his stomach and it was growing. He read the lines, for what felt like the hundredth time, hoping some of the wording would change _this_ time. The ink was starting to smudge from the oils of his fingers but the words there stayed the same.

_Ser Jaime Lannister has been lost in battle. No body has been recovered._

The dwarf sat back, laying the parchment on the desk in front of him. He swallowed roughly. This was not the news he was hoping for, but it was what he had feared. Jaime hadn't been heard from in years- not completely unusual- as he was often moving from one battle encampment to another; but Tyrion felt like this was different. He had started reaching out to some of the generals, hoping one could shine a light on his brother's disappearance. None of the previous ones could and the parchment he received today was from the last, was the same message as the others. 

It had been years since he had heard from his big brother and he had felt the absence. Living in Kings Landing had always been a _eat or be eaten_ world, especially politically, and Tyrion had grown a thick skin around his small body to combat it all. But he had always had Jaime as well, popping in and out of his life. Out of all the Lannisters, Jaime was the one who always watched out for him. As he grew older and more independent, Tyrion didn't need his older brother to fight as many of his battles. His brain, well fed with knowledge, had gotten him out of trouble more than once.

Still, Tyrion relied on the relationship he had with Jaime to ground him and make him help him cope with the rest of his family. Being only four and ten, with the weight of being unwanted, was a lot to handle. Hearing from Jaime gave him a break and let him live an adventure. The letters between them were sporadic at best. It could be four or five moon turns between missives, but never more than that. As the seasons came and went, and moon turns stretched into a year, he became worried. Tyrion approached others with his concerns over the Golden Lion's absence and was met with cold stares. Tywin was sharp in letting his youngest son know that battles were messy and did not always lend itself to peace long enough to write. Cersei barely looked at him. Her perfect mouth twisting as if she ate something sour when he spoke Jaime's name.

To her, he should not be able to speak the golden name. To her, he should not be allowed to even breathe the same air as her. Jaime was the only brother she deemed worthy. It was amusing that as soon as her twin- the one she loved so- was out of sight, their sweet sister started taking other lovers. Tyrion was no fool. He knew what many turned a blind eye to- including King Robert. Tyrion knew that Joffrey, Myrcella and the youngest Tommen were of Jaime's seed. The Lannister features were too strong to deny, as well as the fact that his siblings had never been as secretive as they believed. At least, not around him. They didn't always know he was there. While hiding with a book, he had often seen them run through the halls, clothes in disarray.

Tyrion picked up the parchment again. Jaime had missed so much of his children's lives. Now, if the missives he had received over the past year were to be believed, he would miss all of them. Tyrion pinched the bridge of his disfigured nose. He was too young to lead a search party for his brother and, not many would follow him anyway. He just didn't want to believe that his brother was dead. 

He hopped down from his chair and paced the room. Wouldn't he know if Jaime was dead? Maybe he had been taken prisoner... But if that was the case, wouldn't the captors ask for a ransom? The Kingslayer was worth a great deal, to allies and enemies alike. 

A knock at his door stopped his pacing, and he turned toward the sound. Tywin pushed into the room and stared down at Tyrion with cold green eyes. “You have been inquiring about your brother?”

 _Hello, to you too, father_ Tyrion thought bitterly. He climbed back on his chair before nodding. “Yes, father, I am concerned. It has been almost five years and not a word about his well being has been shared with us. Are you not worried at all?”

Tywin's sharp eyes narrowed. “He is in battle, Tyrion. We have discussed this before.” He came to stand in the center of the room. “These officers do not need to be concerned with the whims of a child.”

“I am four and ten, father,” Tyrion knew not to push too much, but this double standard he had to face was bordering on madness. “At six and ten, Cersei was married with a child. Jaime was knighted and in the Kingsguard at five and ten. How were they more grown than me?”

“Are you conflating yourself with your brother and sister?” 

There was a darkness to his tone which made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His father did not like him in the best of times, and hated him when he blatantly went against something he said. Tyrion didn't understand why making inquiries was a such a problem. Even if Tywin hated to admit Jaime and he were of the same blood, they _were_ , and Tyrion had a right to know what happened to his brother. Still, he bit his tongue. He knew his place in this twisted family and had learned which hills were best to die on.

“I'm sending you away,” Tywin said abruptly. 

“Where to,” he didn't even bother asking why. He knew why. He was unsightly and he was causing a disturbance in the fragile balance.

“Tarth.” Tywin said as he turned to leave the room. “Lord Selwyn has asked the crown for a steward to help run the house. Seeing as you have nothing else to do, I have volunteered your services. He is expecting you.”

“Have you mentioned my condition?”

“He knows you are a dwarf,” Tywin snapped. “He also knows of your rather vast knowledge. He was most pleased by the appointment.” Tyrion was startled by the near compliment of his intelligence and of Lord Selwyn being so receptive. Of course, that could be a facade as well... “You will leave in two days time. I suggest you start packing.” Tywin paused, pursing his lips in thought. “He has a daughter, his only heir, and she is about your age. You would do well to keep that in mind.”

“Yes, father.” He said as Tywin left him alone in his chamber, his parting statement clear.

//--\\\//--\\\

Jaime knelt at her side and placed his hand against her cheek. The warmth of her blood was buried under the cold surface of her skin. He felt his panic rise as she whispered his name and then her gorgeous eyes rolled back into her head. He searched around him, trying to think of something, anything that could help. He thought about screaming, but knew no one would hear him. His stomach lurched and rolled. Brienne was prone and motionless. There was blood pooling beneath her head from the gash to her skull. He cursed. Why? Why in the fuck would the Seven send him here to help when there was nothing he could do?

He shook her shoulder gently, but she did not so much as make a sound. He leaned closer and could feel her light breath against him. His heart unclenched a little. She wasn't dead. But she was not moving either. He leapt to his feet, his mind working hard to come up with a way to save her. He thought back to being in Cersei's chamber and how he made the looking glass break... maybe he could do something like that, but how would they know to get to her?

“I'm going to find someone to help you,” he whispered to her. 

Jaime touched her cheek again and rushed from the room. The halls were pretty empty. Many servants were starting their chores or just finishing up. The knowledge that he may not be able to find anyone, and if he did, that he may not be able to get their attention, sent him into a blind panic. He prayed to the Seven for help. He asked his mother, the one who guided him to her, for help. He begged any being who would listen... 

Selwyn turned the corner at that moment. Jaime's heart pounded in his chest. The large man was walking purposefully toward Brienne's room. He held a scroll in his large hand and he kept glancing down at it. Jaime stepped back through the door and looked around him for something to throw or break. He needed something that would force her father to enter much quicker than he was. His eyes lit up when he saw a glass inkwell on her desk. He walked over to it and tried to concentrate. The small glass globe shook and bounced on the desk. He gritted his teeth. His eyes moved over to Brienne, still laying on the floor. His stomach filled with rage at being so helpless. 

Suddenly, as he screamed in frustration, the inkwell slammed into the far wall. His body slumped in exhaustion and, when Selwyn raced into the room, in relief. Her father dropped to his knees at her side. His body was so massive, it made Brienne look small in comparison. 

“Brienne,” he touched her cheek, then the gash on her forehead. Jaime noticed his fingers were covered in fresh blood. “My Starlight,” her father whispered, gathering her up in his arms as if she weighed nothing and placing her on the bed. She was so limp that Jaime's chest tightened. “Stay with me, my baby!” When Selwyn turned toward Jaime, he saw tears coating the older man's cheeks. He moved quickly to the door and screamed out in a booming voice. “Get the maester!”

A servant, who had been passing through the hall with an arm load of laundry, let out a squeak at the loud exclamation. The young lady raced down the stairs, calling behind her. “Yes, Lord Selwyn.” 

Jaime sat beside her on the bed, watching as Selwyn paced the floor. The man was aging before his eyes. Jaime felt ten years older himself. Brienne still hadn't moved and neither of them could help her. Spirit and man were lost in a cycle of doubt and fear. Jaime kept glancing down at her face, willing her- with his mind, heart and soul- to show some signs of life. The wait for the maester seemed to take a year but was probably only really a couple minutes. 

In the corner of his vision, he saw a black mist gathering on the floor. It was like a pool of smoke slowly thickening into a form. It extended long arms toward the ceiling, it's fingers were like the thin branches of a dead tree. A shiver ran through him at the sight. It was like looking into an endless cavern of darkness. As it moved, hovering above the ground toward the bed, Jaime instinctively moved to cover Brienne's body. 

The air around them turned icy, and the light seemed to get absorbed into the creature. The mist didn't stay still. It continued to slide across the room. Inching ever closer. Jaime's mind started to fog with thoughts he knew were not his, but played closely with his own fears. 

_Kingslayer... Oathbreaker... The world does not miss you... no one cares... you mean nothing... the ones you loved will never love you..._

He shook his head. The words were hissing loudly in his ears. His brain rattled with hate. Anger and fear crashed over him. What if that was true? What if he disappeared completely tomorrow and no one even cared to find him? Has anyone tried to find his body? A flash of silver eyes and a green glow entered his mind. His hand twitched and clenched. He opened his eyes and stared down the mist, daring it to do something to him. 

It had moved closer to the bed, but it's focus was not on him. The darkness curled around Brienne's mouth. Small amounts of bright white light were pulled from her and her face got paler. Jaime roared like the lion of his house sigil. Before he could do anything else, the mist was broken by the maester stepping through it. The older man with a balding head and curls of brown hair around his jawline shivered as he pushed through the blackness. 

“I need more light,” the maester called with low rolling authority in his voice. Several candles were lit around the room and Jaime watched as the shadow shrank away with each flame. “Ah, much better.” The man leant over Brienne's body, examining the wound on her head. He poked at the broken flesh and Jaime snarled, baring his teeth. The older man reached into a bag he had placed on the bed next to her, and opened a jar of foul smelling ointment. “I do apologize, Lady Brienne, for this will sting and not smell the greatest, but it will heal.” He dipped two fingers in, coating them in the thick salve. He wrinkled his nose before placing the balm on her forehead. Brienne moaned and Jaime's heart lifted. Selwyn rushed over to fall on his knees at his daughter's side. “This ointment has a strong smell to it. It will help her heal quickly but she will need to stay in bed.”

“What...” Selwyn swallowed, tears resting on his face like glistening crystals in the gentle candlelight. “Whatever you believe is best.”

“I must wrap her head and someone will need to reapply the balm to her wound twice a day. Heads are a delicate body part. We do not know much, but I believe she will be fine with time. Let her rest. If anything changes, have a servant come for me immediately.” Once the long strips of cloth were wrapped tightly around Brienne's head, the maester packed up what he needed to take with him and left behind the ointment and more cloths. Brienne moved twice more during the progress, moaning once. Jaime breathed a sigh of relief.

Selwyn rose to his full height and shook the healer's hand. “Thank you.” The maester nodded and left the chamber leaving father and daughter alone... or so they thought. Jaime continued to sit by her body, placing his hand on her arm to reassure himself that he could still feel her. Selwyn knelt back on the ground and held her hand to his lips. “My starlight,” he whispered and Jaime got the feeling he was intruding on a private moment. He should have left but he couldn't. Just as Selwyn needed to be with Brienne, so did he. “I have not always been the best father. I have left you with a severe woman to help mold you and I am so sorry for that. But I promise I will be better. Just open your eyes. I can not lose anyone else. My heart could not take it.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Brienne's cheek. Jaime was taken with the display of caring he saw. He did not believe Tywin would be as broken seeing Cersei, Tyrion or himself in such a state. Even if he was, he would never show it so blatantly. Selwyn stood up and crossed the room to the high back desk chair, sitting down facing the bed. His intent was clear. Until his daughter awoke, Selwyn was staying there. Everything else in Westeros could burn to ash because it did not mean anything without her. He was not leaving her side.

Jaime felt the same.

//--\\\//--\\\

Brienne awoke to a pounding in her head and a bitter taste in her mouth. She opened her eyes slowly, closing them again because the light was too bright. She let out a moan of pain, lifting her hand to her head. It was hard to think with the throbbing but she tried to put some sense to what she was feeling. She remembered passing out, she remembered being in a hallway... or was she? Was it a dream? Did it happen at all?

She tried to open her eyes again, and this time she was able to squint. Her chamber was bathed in sunlight and she took several deep breaths. Movement on her other side caught her attention. She turned her head carefully as to not jar it and cause more pain. Jaime was laying down beside her. His eyes were wide and watching her closely. Her breath caught in her throat and she opened her mouth to speak.

He placed his finger against her lips, stopping her words- and honestly her brain from functioning- and said, “Your father is here.”

Had she had the power of thought she would have questioned why, but as it was, his finger still rested on her lips; his body was laying next to hers on her bed and she was incapable of even breathing correctly. Her heart was racing. His eyes were so green, like sparkling emeralds. His face was so close. He removed his finger and held her gaze. This was more than she could handle. Somehow, she was able to nod once to let him know she understood.

Jaime cleared his throat, “You scared us last night. I found you on the floor with a wound to your head and I could not get you to wake up. I thought...” He trailed off, lost in his memories. “I thought I had lost you. I thought you were dying and there was nothing I could do to save you.” His eyes grew more panicked as he spoke. “I have never felt as helpless as I did at that moment. Except for when I could not save my Prince's wife and children.”

She took his hand in hers and held it. It was as much for him as it was for her. She needed to feel connected to him. She needed him to know she was going to be okay. They needed to hold and be held. It was such a simple thing but at that moment, it was _everything_.

Her father groaned from the corner of the room and she slowly moved toward the sound. Selwyn stretched his arms above his head. When he finally looked in her direction, he leapt out of his chair, knocking it to the ground in his rush and moved to the bed. He fell to the ground, hugging her gently but firmly. “My sweet starlight!”

“Father,” her eyes welled up with tears as an image filtered through her mind. A family, her family, happy without her. Selwyn's smile, as Morganne stood alive next to her husband with all their dead children around them... a complete family. “Father, I am fine,” her voice wobbled.

Her father held her face between his massive hands and tears rolled freely down his cheeks. “Please my babe, please do not ever leave me. I could not bear to live in a world where you are not in it. You are the one truly beautiful thing in my life.”

“I will not leave you,” she whispered. “I am right here.” The image in her mind shattered at his smile. It was brighter than the sun and filled her with it's light. “I am right here,” she repeated.

“Thank the Seven,” he said, kissing her cheeks. “I love you, my Starlight. I love you so much.”

She let the tears which were gathering spill down her cheeks. All the pain in her head and heart dulled and faded. She was loved. Those thoughts were wrong. Joanna had been right- they were said to make her weak. But how could she be weak when she had her father's love and- she glanced at Jaime as he moved into her view- Jaime in her life? The next time she saw the shadow, she would have to remember that, she would have to hold this moment in her heart.

//--\\\//--\\\

Brienne spent days in bed, under the watchful eyes of her father and Jaime. She was not allowed to move unless absolutely necessary. Jaime could tell she was getting frustrated with their constant hovering, but he would not stop and neither would her father. Seeing her so lifeless was burned in both of their consciousness. It was not a moment they would forget soon.

On the sixth day, Brienne started plotting her escape. Her blue eyes flashed when the maester told her she would have to continue to rest, seeing as the brain was a delicate organ. She glared at anyone who came close, even at him more than once.

“Jaime,” she hissed at him through clenched teeth when they were alone, which admittedly wasn't much. “I am _fine_. Staying in this chamber is causing me to go mad! I need to get _out_.”

“Once the maester...” he started only to be cut off.

“That old man will never let me leave,” he swallowed a grin at the dramatic way she flung her arms out on the bed. “It is like he enjoys seeing me tortured and father is going along with it.”

“I believe,” Jaime came to stand beside her. She looked up at him and his stomach flipped. “I believe you may find tomorrow that he will grant you freedom, especially if you act as you just did.” That earned him a particularly nasty glare. He held up his hands in surrender. Brienne sat up on the bed and rubbed at the healing wound on her head. It had an angry pink color and was looking harsh but at least it was starting to mend. It was nice to be alone with her again. Selwyn had had to take a meeting with one of his bannermen but promised to return right after. He sat in the chair her father would normally occupy and stared at her. “What happened that night?”

Her eyes dropped to the bed linen and she picked at a thread. “I am afraid you would not believe me if I told you.”

Jaime leaned forward. “I am a spirit caught between life and death. I can touch nothing but you and you fear I will find something unbelievable?”

“Jaime...” she sighed and looked over at him. “I have been seeing the dead since I was but three, maybe younger and I did not know. Only a few times have I been scared...” She trailed off and closed her eyes. “There is something here.” Her body shook and she wrapped her arms around her middle. “There is something that I do not understand and it feels like it is trying to hurt me.”

“A shadow,” he asked, his stomach started feeling queasy. She opened her eyes in shock.

“How...”

“That night,” Jaime got up from the chair and moved over to the bed. “It came. I saw it almost appear out of the ground. It came for you.”

Her breath caught, and she shivered more. “Why? I am no one of importance really. There is nothing special about me.”

“Do you really believe that?” She shrugged. “Brienne... you are so special, and not just because of what you can do. You are so much more than that. I do not know what I can say to make you see yourself as I do.” 

“How do you see me?”

He paused, collecting his thoughts. “You are someone who helps people without question. You give so much of yourself and you do it without anyone knowing. When I think about you, I feel happy. And that is not something I have felt much. Your eyes are so bright and warm, I can get lost in them. I think about your laugh when I hear a bit of music and your smile when I see the brightest of stars in the night sky. I trust you and I do not trust many... and I feel deeply for you.”

“Jaime...” she started to lean toward him then stopped, staring at him. “I wish...”

Selwyn opened the door at that moment. “My starlight! I have good news.”

Brienne cleared her throat as Jaime moved to stand next to the window. He tried not to glare at the man. It was not as if the expression would do anything anyway, but he had wanted to hear what Brienne had to say.

“Good news?”

“Maester Harlyn has released you from bed. He has said you may take short walks and resume some of your studies.”

She moved quickly to the side of the bed and jumped up, grinning at her father. “Truthfully?”

“Yes,” he laughed when she jumped into his arms in joy. Jaime couldn't help his own lips from curling into a grin as well. “I know you will want to go to Ser Goodwin, but that has not been approved. You will not fight... but you can go and watch.”

“You have my word,” she vowed, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.” 

Selwyn pressed his hand to her cheek, as if reminding himself that she was alright. Jaime understood. He sometimes did that as well. He needed to see those eyes, bright and alive. Touch her face and feel the warmth. Jaime watched her hug her father, then race from the chamber before he could change his mind. Selwyn sighed and looked to the ceiling. “Thank you for watching out for her. I do not know what I would do without her in my life.”

 _Same,_ Jaime thought and faded from the room.

//--\\\//--\\\

Tyrion hated ships. He hated traveling by sea. The constant rocking of the boat as waves pushed against the vessel, made him queasy. The fact that the journey to Tarth took next to a full moon turn had not made the experience more appealing to him either. He had spent most of the first two weeks with a bucket beside him, in case he could not make it to the side of the bow.

But even he could not find fault with the Narrow Sea in general and the vivid ocean around Tarth. He inhaled sharply at the clearness of the waters and the ease with which they moved. He found himself leaning over to see into the depths. Schools of brightly colored fish swam as one. Large and small rocks were embedded in the ocean's floor. He swore that if mermaids were real, this is where they would pick to live.

The ship's captain came to his side and looked out over the horizon. “It will be less than a day more, Lord Lannister.”

Tyrion straightened up and nodded. “Thank you, Captain. I will be in my cabin.” 

He eased himself down to the bow and then down the couple steps to his sleeping quarters. The cabin he had been given was small by most standards but fit him well. He had a scattering of books and other belongings within easy reach, including same papers he kept in a bag. Tyrion pulled one of those precious papers out, unrolled the piece of parchment he had taken with him, and read the words as he had done every night. 

_Dear Brother,_

_I do not have much time to write. The battles seem to be dragging on. I have much to tell you when we do see each other. I know you will have many questions. The enemies of King Robert have started to scatter and it is becoming harder to find them. Most have moved to the Free Cities._

_I hope all is well with you. I miss you greatly and look forward to hearing about all the things you have learned. Stay strong, Tyrion. I know it is not easy there. But I will be home soon._

_Yours-_

_Jaime_

Tyrion reluctantly rolled the parchment back up and slid it into the side of his bag. He stared at the wood planks which made up the walls and felt his throat close up. He did not want to believe that was the last message he would ever receive from his brother. He wanted to hold out hope that Jaime was just off and no one knew where. 

But if that wasn't the truth... if his older brother had perished... He hoped that he finally found peace. Tyrion might have been the only person in their family who knew how much Jaime had been holding in. Killing Aerys, being called the Kingslayer, spit on, ridiculed- it took a toll on his brother. Tyrion knew that because he watched the way Jaime's eyes changed over the years. 

Still, selfishly, he wanted his brother back. Tyrion needed him. He missed him...

//--\\\//--\\\

Brienne sat down on a flat rock- pulling her shoes off and rolling up her pants- and dipped her feet into the lukewarm water of the lake. She leaned back and looked up at the clouds passing over her head. She was finally cleared to start training again and she could not wait. The smile had not left her lips since Maester Harlyn told her the news.

It seemed like years since she swung a sword and her hands were itching to get back at it. Brienne closed her eyes, letting the sun's rays warm her up. She would enjoy the beautiful day a little more, then run to the practice yard. A feeling of tranquility washed over her. The sun and clouds above her, her feet swinging back and forth in the tepid lake. The only sounds were the birds in the trees, the wind through the leaves and her own beating heart. 

“You look peaceful.”

She cracked an eye open. “I am.”

Jaime sat at her side. “Any reason?”

“I can start training again on the morrow.” She grinned up at him. “I can not wait to hold a sword again. My hand has felt empty without it.”

“I know the feeling,” he looked off into the distance and she sat up.

“I am sorry, Jaime.” She sighed. “It was thoughtless of me to speak so enthusiastically when you can not ever hold a sword again.”

He tipped her head up. “I am happy you will be back in the practice yard.” He smiled softly at her. “I do so enjoy watching you dance with a blade in your hands. My only regret is that I will never get to dance with you.”

“It is my regret too,” she admitted. The tension grew between them, and she started to daydream about him leaning in to kiss her. Brienne pulled her gaze away. There was no use indulging in such thoughts. “My father has informed me that we will have a guest staying with us.”

“Oh,” Jaime quirked an eyebrow. “And whom might that be?”

She shrugged, “I know not. Father did not say.” Her eyes met his again. “But you may know him. He is arriving from Kings Landing this afternoon. The raven from the ship's captain gave our Maester the coordinates and it put them about five leagues from Tarth's ports.”

“Could this be another young Lord coming for your hand,” Jaime asked, his face closed off and his eyes stormy.

“I believe my father has given up after what happened with Wagstaff,” Brienne reached down and picked a dandelion from the ground. The white seeds flew through the air as she pursed her lips and blew gently on it. The pods danced along the wind, flying high and far. “I think that I will find it impossible to find a Lord willing to wed me.”

“It is selfish, as I do not have a body or a hand for you to take, but I am relieved to hear that.” Their eyes met and he touched the back of her hand where it rested next to his on the rock. “I do not think I could stand to see you with another.”

“It does not seem fair,” she huffed. “This between us... the timing... it does not seem fair at all.”

“No,” he curled his pinky around hers. “No, it does not.”

She wished she could rest her head upon his shoulder. She wished she could curl against him and watch the clouds. She wished she could know what his lips felt like as they caressed hers. Brienne swallowed deeply. She would be happy with the time they had. She would have to be.

//--\\\//--\\\

Brienne stood by the doors to Evenhall and pulled at her sleeves, glaring sideways at him when he started chuckling. Her simple blue dress was made with modest materials. There was no silks, only cotton, no heavy embroidery around the collar, only a bit of lace... The gown fit Brienne well and she looked nice in it.

She, of course, hated every moment of wearing it. Jaime came to stand at her side, brushing her arm with his. She bit her lip to not react, with so many people watching. Strands of her flaxen hair slipped from her braids and curled around her face. Her blue eyes were wide as she waited. Selwyn straightened his jerkin and cleared his throat. 

“I believe that is Captain Kayne now.” 

Jaime looked over the men walking toward them. He did not recognize anyone at first. The ship's captain was vaguely familiar. He might have met him at a feast for King Robert, but he could not say for sure. The older man looked every bit like a man of the sea. His face was weathered and showed the expression of one who had seen battle. He was only about a head shorter than Selwyn and not nearly as robust. 

“Captain Kayne,” Selwyn held out his hand.

“Lord Tarth,” the captain bent down in respect. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“And I, you,” Selwyn smiled at the ship's officer, turning to Brienne. “This is my daughter, Lady Brienne.” She managed a small curtsy and the officer bowed deeply. “Is our guest here?”

“Yes,” Kayne nodded. “He is with some of the other officers. He does not have a stomach for the open sea, I am afraid.”

Selwyn laughed. “I will keep him on dry land then.” Jaime saw some more men walking up. His eyes narrowed. “Ah, this must be him now.”

The men continued to walk up the steps to meet the Lord and his daughter. In the midst of them all was a small body. Jaime's stomach swooped. A mop of pale blonde and black hair. Eyes which did not match- one as green as his own, one as black as the night. His forehead jutted out too far and he had stubby legs. He walked with a limp as he labored up the stairs. He had not thought he would ever see him again. He longed to meet him halfway and swallow him up in an embrace. Jaime held his unneeded breath as his little brother finally made it up to the top step. 

“Tyrion,” Jaime breathed out. Brienne jerked at his side, her eyes growing wider.

“Lord Selwyn,” Tyrion held out his hand. “It is a pleasure. Thank you for this stewardship. I look forward to learning all about your island.”

“Thank you, Lord Lannister,” Selwyn shook his brother's hand as if he was his equal. Tyrion looked a little shocked at that. Jaime remembered how people treated one they called 'half-man' and it was often not well. “This is my daughter, Lady Brienne.”

Brienne sent a side glance at him, then smiled at Tyrion. She curtsied to him and he bent at his waist in a bow. “Lord Lannister,” she said with a great deal of fondness. “I am most delighted you have arrived. I am sure you will find Tarth to be a very interesting place, if quieter than you are used to.” 

“I am finding it to be very welcoming indeed,” he smiled happily. “And please, do call me Tyrion. I can see why it is called the Sapphire Isle. The waters match your eyes, Lady Brienne.”

Brienne blushed, Jaime smirked, and Selwyn laughed, “Quite right they do. Come, Lord Tyrion, let me show you to your quarters. I am sure you would like to freshen up and relax before we feast.”

“Yes,” Tyrion nodded. “That sounds divine.”

The newcomers were led to different places. Selwyn leading Tyrion to the chamber the servants had prepared for him. The ship's crew going back to the docks or to a pub. The captain talking with his first mate as they headed back to look for lodging. It left Brienne and he alone. Jaime found he could not think straight nor speak properly yet. Only one thought kept repeating. _Tyrion was here. Tyrion was close. His brother..._

“Jaime,” she whispered to get his attention. 

His eyes finally cleared and he could see everything without a film of tears. Only three words left his lips, “Tyrion... is here.”

Brienne smiled at him and he smiled back.

//--\\\//--\\\

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/2yGbMr6)  



	7. Revealing Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jaime stalked his brother. Everywhere he went, Jaime followed. His mouth was dry, his hands tingling with the desire to touch him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sick of me yet? LOL. This chapter took so much time for me to get right and I hope it is as okay as I believe it is. Thank you to everyone for taking the time to read, commenting and leaving kudos. It means the world to me. Please let me know what you think!
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> Big thank you to my beta: Merrymaya. She battles through my horrible first drafts so you don't have to.
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> Thank you to Ro Nordmann for the beautiful fan art. I can never express how much I truly love it.
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[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/181950571@N02/48342483962/in/photostream/)

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Jaime stalked his brother. Everywhere he went, Jaime followed. His mouth was dry, his hands tingling with the desire to touch him. His mind was also spinning in circles with all the words he wanted to say. Tyrion looked so much more mature than he had been the last time they had seen each other. He had not grown in height, but Jaime could see some wariness in his eyes that he had not noticed before. _What horrors have you seen, dear brother?_

He knew that Tyrion was not seen well in their father's eyes. He held his younger brother responsible for a death that he had not caused and had withheld his love from the dwarf because of it. Tywin was a cold man by nature, reserved and calculating. Tyrion had never seen their father smile. Even though the memory is a hazy one, Jaime could recall a time when Tywin's lips twitched up and his eyes were not is icy. Cersei was no better. She was harsh with her judgments. A learned trait, an inherited one. Jaime had tried to balance out the lovelessness with as many moments of joy as he could fit in the short amount of time they had together...

But even he had been neglectful as well. His dark relationship with Cersei had invaded his mind and he had taken every opportunity to be with her when he could. He had left his brother alone... and he regretted that. Jaime walked behind Tyrion as the younger man looked over a heavy book filled with the history of Tarth. His mismatched eyes flicking side to side quickly. Jaime reached his hand out, his fingertips grazing the dwarf's shoulder.

Tyrion's head popped up and he looked around him, rubbing at the spot Jaime had just touched. His stomach jumped. _Could he feel me too?_ The thought excited him and he touched the spot again more forcibly. This time Tyrion just looked up and around, shivering. Movement at the door had both Lannister brothers looking up. Brienne stood there in her typical attire for training, leather pants and a simple cream tunic. Her eyes flipped between them both quickly before settling on Tyrion. Her large mouth lifted in a sincere smile.

“Lord Tyrion,” she came to stand in front of them. “I know you have not gotten much of a chance to see the island and I was wondering if you would like a small tour. These walls can feel as if they are closing in on you sometimes.”

Tyrion straightened up and nodded, “I think some sun would do me some good. I felt a draft hitting my shoulder and must admit to feeling a little cold because of it. I also feel as if I am being watched by unseen eyes.” He laughed a little at his own ridiculous thought. Brienne's eyes met his for a moment. “This, however, is nothing new. King's Landing has many spies. Are you spying on me as well?”

Her smile shook a little and she laughed with some unease. “Maybe the ghosts that walk among us are taking an interest in you, My Lord.”

Tyrion laughed loudly, holding his stomach. Jaime glared at her until he heard the way his brother reacted, then his glare softened into a grateful expression. “Oh, Lady Brienne!” Tyrion guffawed. “Your wit is a treasure I did not think I would find, and I believed I would find many here.” She blushed. “Do you think the ghosts of Evenhall know that a lion is sitting in their presence and that is why they are so intrigued?”

She smirked, “I am sure they find you intriguing for many reasons. The lion being just one.”

“I am sure they find you to be most interesting as well,” he said. Jaime startled when he realized his brother was flirting with Brienne. His eyes narrowed and he just barely held himself back from slapping his brother on the head. “Have you a destination in mind?”

“There are a great many places on the island that are unique, but I think the waterfall on the west side of the Evenhall would be a wonderful place to start.” 

His brother shut the book he had been pouring over and hopped down from his chair. He stood in front of the much taller woman. “Please my Lady,” he said grandly but not mockingly, “lead the way.”

Brienne blushed and smiled. “Before we go, let me talk with the cook about making a basket of food. It soon will be close to midday and I am sure we will both be hungry once we reach the waterfall.”

The younger Lannister nodded, “That would be too kind, My Lady. I will await your return.”

Brienne waited a moment then turned and walked out. Jaime followed her. His mind reeling. “My brother is quite taken with you it seems.”

She looked at him from the corner of her eyes and said quietly so only he could hear. “He is quite taken with the title of Lady and the hold attached to it. My father has said that a union between us would be a welcomed one for both families. I think this is part of the reason your brother was sent to steward for my father.”

Jaime almost tripped. The thought of her wrapped in Lannister red and gold was a pleasing one to him... the thought of his brother being the one to fasten the cloak around her, was not. Another man should not be allowed to touch her, hold her, kiss her. That right belonged to Jaime. Once again, he silently raged at the Gods for cursing him to this fate. He might never move on to the afterlife, but she _would_ eventually move on with her life. Brienne would one day hold a man in the throes of passion, would swell with a babe and birth it into the world. His heart ached at the knowledge that he would never be the man she would share those moments with. 

She rolled her eyes, turning swiftly on her heel and walked into a room, beckoning him to follow her. Once he was inside, she shut the door and looked intently at him. “The sour look on your face is really unnecessary.”

“He would treat you well,” the words were dull and tasted like vinegar in his mouth. Jaime hated saying them, even if they were the truth. “Tyrion is someone who would never stop you from being who you are. The match would not be the worst.”

Brienne tilted her head, “Is that what you really want? For me to wed your brother? For the houses of Tarth and Lannister to be one?”

He could see that she was not expecting him to tell the truth. She was prepared for him to push the issue and plead for his brother to be her betrothed as he had started to, just a moment before. But fuck that! He crowded in on her. Only a small space between them. If he were not a spirit, they would be sharing the same air, breathing each other in. His eyes locked with hers. The blue shined, even in the half light coming in from the thin window in the corner. 

“No,” Jaime said with finality. She blinked rapidly. Her breathing changed. “I do not want you to be at my brother's side. I do not want you to swell with his babe. The only lion who should touch you is _me_. If our houses were to become one, it should be _me_ wrapping the cloak about your shoulders.” She licked her lips. “I should be the one who kisses those sweet ripe strawberry colored lips. Only I should taste the saltiness of your skin.”

“Jaime...” she closed her eyes for a moment then opened them again. The sapphires were blazing with want and lust colored her cheeks a deep crimson. “I dream of that as well.” His desire to kiss her, claim her, reached a fever pitch. 

“What else do you dream of, Brienne?”

This was a bittersweet torture. A slow burn of the soul. They were so close and yet nothing could happen between them. She panted slightly and he knew that if he could feel her, truly touch her- not just a sensation of hands brushing hands- he would be as affected as she was. Even in this half form _he_ tingled with arousal. Brienne took a step back, he took one forward. They continued this dance until she bumped into a table. Nowhere for her to run. Nowhere for them to hide.

“Jaime,” she begged. “Please do not make me speak of my dreams. They are merely a foolish girl's fantasy.”

“You are not foolish, Brienne.” He took a step back, giving her an out. “You could never be foolish... not to me.”

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I dream of you loving only me.”

She walked around him, leaving the room. Jaime felt his heart break. How could she not know? Did he not make himself clear? He talked about wanting to wed her. Of her heavy with his child. How could she misunderstand? She did not have to dream of him loving her and only her. He already did.

//--\\\//--\\\

Brienne walked with both Lannister brothers at her side. Jaime was looking at her. His green eyes never leaving her face. She pointedly kept her gaze away from his. The moment in the room had been too much for her fragile heart. It brought all the pain of their situation to the surface. They were as close as two could be and yet, they were also as far apart as the stars were to her fingertips. She wanted to cry at how much she _wanted_ him. It was the cruelest of japes and one she felt could only happen to her. For only she would be foolish enough to fall so deeply in love with a ghost. She had won the prize for being the most pathetic.

Shaking herself loose from her grim mood she pointed ahead of them. “This is the place I was telling you about, Lord Tyrion.”

The dwarf looked around the meadow in awe. “I can safely say I have never seen any spot quite like this.” She smiled, proud of her home. “Come,” he sat on the soft grass. “You must tell me about yourself, and about your home.”

Brienne sat down, placing the small basket between them. “I am afraid I am not that interesting, My Lord. I am a simple girl from a simple island.”

“Horse shit,” Jaime said at the same time Tyrion said, “Liar.”

She startled at the combined words of disagreement from the two brothers. She wanted to smile. She could see it now. The Lannister blood, the similarities, the quick wit. Brienne pressed her lips together. Jaime grinned at his brother then turned that beautiful smile on her. Her insides fluttered and she cursed herself again. Pulling a blade of grass from the ground she began to shred it.

“If you would like to know me,” she said quietly, but in the windlessness she could still be heard. “I guess I should start with my family. It is just my father and I. My brother, the only member of the Tarth family to survive past the cradle other than me, died at the age of nine. This island and my father are a big part of who I am and what makes me the person you see.”

“I have a brother,” Tyrion said then looked frustrated with himself. “Had a brother.” Brienne's eyes met Jaime's. He rested at the dwarf's side, watching Tyrion struggle. Jaime's hands clenched into fists in his lap. 

“How did he die?” Brienne asked. This might be good for Jaime to hear. As much as it pained her to think of him not being around, maybe this was the real reason Tyrion was sent here. To help his brother in a way she could not, or more accurately, did not want to. “I know how painful it is to lose a brother.”

“I do not know how he died,” Tyrion said with heavy sadness. “I have spent many years trying to find him, but no one knows what happened. All the commanders know is that he has not been seen in many moons. All just believe him to be dead.”

“But you do not,” she watched both of the Lannisters. Jaime's eyes were wide. Tyrion's were bright with unleashed tears. “You think he is still alive?”

“I...” he paused. “I know my brother would try to get home if he was alive.” Jaime looked down at the ground between his folded legs. 

“What was he like?”

Tyrion's face lit up in a grin even as tears swarmed his eyes. “He was the only person who could look at me in the eyes. Most only saw his looks or his prowess in swordplay. Or they hated him for killing the King. Only a few got to see the real Jaime and those are, or were, the lucky ones.” Their eyes met. “I think you would have liked him... after he stopped annoying you.” Brienne laughed loudly. For that was exactly how their relationship took shape. She had hated him, then learned to respect him. Eventually, she began to enjoy being around him and through it all she fell in love with him. Tyrion joined in on the laughter for a moment before sobering up. “I miss him terribly.”

She nodded. She understood. “I miss my brother as well.”

“How did he die?”

“He drowned,” she pulled another blade of grass from the dirt. “He was swimming in the seas, as we had done almost everyday since we were old enough to float, when he was pulled under. No one could explain it. He was a powerful swimmer and the current was not strong that day. Those who saw it happen said that he sunk beneath the water so quickly, it was as if someone had been dragging him to the depths below.” Her tears filled with tears and her mouth trembled. “I was five when he was taken by the Stranger.”

“I am terribly sorry, Lady Brienne,” Tyrion said, his voice brimming with remorse. “It seems we both have had our fair bit of tragedy.”

Brienne nodded. “Yes, but tragedy is a part of life. I choose not to dwell too intently on the feeling.” She looked at Jaime as Tyrion's gaze strayed to the waterfall. Jaime's stare held her eyes captive and she was once again flooded with feeling. “There is a lot of love to be found as well.”

Tyrion looked at her, “My brother was a bit of a romantic as well. He had done much in the name of love.”

“Are you a romantic?” She asked to deflect from the blush crawling up her neck. She knew how much of a romantic Jaime was. He had shown her in many ways. 

“I am afraid not,” he said. “I wished for the heart of a poet, but instead I got the mind of a thinker. I can not believe what I do not see with my eyes.” He paused. “I would love to be one taken by fancy.”

“Lord Tyrion,” Brienne leaned forward to open the basket and pull out a flagon of water. “What has made you so closed off to the world of fantasy? Have you never been enraptured by a feeling you can not explain?”

“I do not wish to paint my life as only filled with darkness, but I have to be honest, Lady Brienne,” he reached into the basket and pulled out a meat pie. “King's Landing is not a place for dreamers. Spending years watching people treat others as stepping stones to power or respectability has made me cautious, if not a little callous.”

“You do not seem so callous to me,” she took a sip from her cup. “I have met men without a drop of kindness in their hearts who wound others because they can. You, My Lord, are not like that.” Jaime moved closer to his brother. She watched him struggle with wanting to comfort Tyrion and it made her heart ache even more. Brienne looked around her then back at the youngest Lannister, “I hope being on Tarth will let the dreamer inside of you come out. I think a poet's heart might beat under your chest.”

Tyrion leaned forward and took her hand in his, kissing her knuckles lightly. “Lady Brienne, I do hope you are right.”

//--\\\//--\\\

She bowed her head, whispering her prayers. The power beneath her skin got stronger with every word. She felt her insides pulse with it. The witch felt the shift in the air. The forces of good and evil were racing toward each other, as jousters raced toward impact. She spread a bit of ointment on the prone figure to keep him comfortable. Jaime was moving more frequently now. His hand flexed and his mouth twitched as if he was speaking.

The woman knew these were all good signs. The thin veil that hung between Brienne and Jaime was getting more transparent by the moment. Soon, she knew all would be revealed. She had already sent another to help. The witch placed her hand against his brow and whispered softly, “Stay mindful, Ser Jaime. Brienne will need you to fight at her side because I fear the ones who wish to harm her will be waiting to take her away. Darkness creeps in when we are the most distracted- be her light.”

Jaime's eyelids fluttered. His right hand- his sword hand- flexed as if holding a blade. He was ready to battle. He was ready for war. She sighed. He would need to be. While her benevolent teacher kept her away from interfering more than this, others did not engage with honor. They have their orders and she has hers. Even with her being on the edges and so far away from her champion, she had faith; for her warrior was good and just. She walked back to the corner of her hut and knelt down. Her head bowed again and she returned to her prayers.

//--\\\//--\\\

Jaime watched Tyrion more closely than ever when they returned to the keep. The conversation he had had with Brienne had been enlightening. He knew his brother had been hurt by their father's lack of love and his sister's hateful nature, but he did not fully understand his own impact. He had always been a fighter. He had fought against societal norms to be with Cersei, even if only in the cover of darkness. He had fought on the battlefield for his brothers in arms. He had fought for the people of King's Landing by killing the Mad King. He had fought with the shadow creature when Brienne had been at her most vulnerable point.

It was not until he heard his brother speak so cynically that he realized he had failed in being more than a fighter. He should have been a better brother. He paced the length of Brienne's room. She was training with Ser Goodwin. He would normally be at the practice yard with her, watching her learn- telling her his opinions, but he needed to think. Tyrion was too young to be so cold to the idea of fancy. He lived in books, he should be embracing the tails of knights and ladies, of dragons and warriors. How could the little boy begging their uncle for a tiny dragon for his fourth nameday change so much?

It worried Jaime. And he feared he was part of the reason Tyrion lost his innocence. He had been away too long, even before he died. He had tried to restore his honor by battling valiantly on the field of battle. He rarely, if ever, thought about the young boy accused of killing his mother before taking his first breath outside the womb. Tyrion had been given very little and Jaime was supposed to be there for him. 

He had thought his letters would be enough. When he came home, he had made it a point to visit with the dwarf, but his mind had always been on his next forbidden encounter with his sweet sister. Even while trying to show him love, Jaime had only done it with a half heart. He balled up his fists and turned to leave the room. He needed to find him. He needed to find a way to express how sorry he was that he had left him to face the vipers alone. What kind of big brother does that?

Jaime walked the halls until he found his brother in his chambers. Tyrion was sitting on the bed, a worn piece of parchment in his tiny hands. The edges were rubbed down from the many times it had been unrolled. Jaime's heart clenched when he recognized his own handwriting. He moved closer to the bed, sitting beside the younger man. The words- he remembered writing them. He remembered that he had only taken a few moments to write the message. A quick scribble of sentences to let Tyrion know he was alright.

Who knew that would be the last thing he sent? Who knew those words, written in haste, would be all he left his brother to hold onto? He wished with a heavy heart that he could change the past and be more, _do_ more. Jaime looked at Tyrion's face. Pain had etched lines around his eyes. At four and ten, Tyrion seemed more lost than Jaime. 

“I wish you could hear me,” Jaime said to him. “I wish I could tell you how much I love you. How much you mean to me. I am sorry I failed to protect you. I am sorry that when I was alive, I did not do all I should have. Please forgive me, dear brother.”

“Jaime,” Tyrion whispered. Jaime glanced sharply at him. “I hope you found peace. I know I keep telling you that, but it is all I want for you. I miss you so.”

His eyes stung. If he had any tears in his body, he knew they would be sliding down his cheeks. He got up from the bed and went to find Brienne. He had a request of her and he hoped she would be receptive. Jaime had just entered the hall, when he felt a strange sensation on his body. His skin tinged with life. He felt as though someone was placing a cooling balm upon him. He sagged against the wall, thankful he did not fall through it. Next, he felt a hand on his brow. 

It could not be mistaken as anything but that. It was a mother's touch. Soft and comforting. Jaime's lungs filled with unneeded air. A whispering voice, words from the distance- _Stay mindful, Ser Jaime. Brienne will need you to fight at her side because I fear the ones who wish to harm her will be waiting to take her away. Darkness creeps in when we are the most distracted- be her light._

He shook. That voice... he had heard it but once... His mind worked over and over, but the more he thought, the foggier it got. What could it all mean?

//--\\\//--\\\

Brienne sat with her needle point on her lap, sucking on her finger. It's the fourth time she had pricked her thumb since beginning this pattern. Septa Roelle was watching with piercing eyes as she pulled the digit out of her mouth and started pulling the thread through the material again.

“Your stitches are wrong and crooked,” the older woman said as she came around to inspect her work. “How can one be so clumsy with a thin piece of metal pulling a bit of string, but claim to be talented with a blade. Really child!”

She held her tongue. Biting the inside of her cheek to not speak the words she so desperately wanted to. She would have to talk with her father. This woman was no longer needed in her life. She would never marry and would not require a Septa for her children. But even if she did end up with a babe, she would never let one be raised by this cruel individual. The doors to the library opened and she looked up gratefully as her father entered the room.

Septa Roelle instantly stood up straighter and her demeanor changed. Brienne's eyes narrowed. “Lord Selwyn,” she said with practiced kindness. “It is a pleasure to see you. I was just helping-”

Selwyn barely looked at the other woman, his eyes falling upon Brienne's face. “Septa Roelle, leave me with my daughter. You are free for the rest of the day.”

The older woman's mouth pinched slightly, the only indication of her displeasure. Brienne hid her smile. “Yes, My Lord.” She waited a moment more, as if hoping that her father would change his mind about dismissing her, then she left the Tarths alone.

“You want to speak with me, father?”

He sat on the chair at her left side. He took the needle point from her hands and placed in on the table next to him. Selwyn took her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes. “My sweet starlight,” he paused as if he did not know how to continue. “I have been thinking about your fall nearly a moon ago.” She nodded, her mind racing. “I feel that there is something I need to tell you. It is something that I have kept from you because I had hoped you would never be burdened with it.”

“Father, what is it?” Her stomach felt strange. “Please just tell me.”

“My mother told me once, there are forces beyond our sight, my star,” he clasped her hands harder and she felt faint. “She used to say she could see things other could not. Could talk to those who had not crossed over. There are witches in our bloodline, she would say as she readied me for bed. I do not believe in such things...” his voice showed her the lie. Her father knew... her father... “I just worry... maybe you might.”

The words were of concern, but Brienne could hear what he meant. He knew she could see the dead. He had always known. She licked her lips, her mouth dry. 

“Why did you let me suffer alone?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Why did you not tell me you knew? I have worried that I was a freak and you could not love me fully. But you knew...”

His blue eyes were sad. His shoulders sagged under the weight of what she said. “I know and I thought if I did not acknowledge it, it would go away. I am sorry, my lovely starlight. I have failed you in more ways than this. I never wanted this life for you, but I must impress this on you... I have never loved you less because of your gift. If anything, I love you more. You are strong and compassionate and everything I could have ever hoped for in a daughter.” He kissed her knuckles, bowing his head. “I ask you to forgive me for my follies. I will do better, this I promise.” Brienne turned her face toward the window. Her mind was stuck on her father's confession. It was hard for her to believe that for seven and ten years he has known and never said a word. Her heart hurt, thinking of each time she had felt shame for lying to him. For hiding Jaime's involvement in her life. He had known all along. “I have hurt you. I have broken your trust in me.”

She turned back to him. His face was full of regret. She bottled up her anger and pushed it aside. She would deal with it later. Brienne still loved her father and did not wish him to be hurt. “I can not say I am not angry at you. I feel betrayed, but I love you and I will forgive you with time. This is all I can do.”

He nodded, leaning forward to kiss her brow. “I will take all you can give.” He let go of her hands and moved to get up. “The spirit that saved you that day. Please thank him for me.” She jumped. He knew about Jaime? “I do not see as you. I can not hear the words they speak, but I...”

 _Feel them,_ she finished in her mind when he could not. She nodded and he left her with her thoughts. It was not long after, that Jaime appeared before her. He took one look at her and knelt at her feet. 

“Brienne?”

She shook herself free of her thoughts, “My father knows about me.” He leaned back in shock. “I am not the first to have this affliction.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she fought to keep them from falling. “I know he did not mean to hurt me with his omission but, Jaime... how could he let me live this life alone? Before you, I could not speak to anyone about what I could do.” She shook her head, her words leaving her. 

“I do not know what to say,” Jaime sighed. “I can only tell you what I saw when you were hurt.” She held his eyes. “I saw a man who would not be able to live without you. I saw a man full of remorse for the mistakes he had made. And I saw a man who _loves_ his daughter so much he would have taken her place if given the chance.” The tears did fall this time. “He made mistakes, Brienne. But then, so have we all.” His eyes grew sad.

“What is weighing so heavily on you, Jaime?”

“Tyrion,” he said. “I have never been as good a brother to him as I have wanted to believe.”

“You know that is not true,” she placed her hand against his cheek. “He loves you. He sees you as his hero. You heard how he speaks of you.”

“I need to do more,” he leaned into her touch. “I have a request of you. I will understand if you do not want to do it.”

“I will help you in whatever way you need.” Her voice shook with emotion. “Just ask.”

“Help me talk to Tyrion,” he implored. “Help me reach him.”

She smiled, “That is not a request I would ever deny. Come, let us find him.”

//--\\\//--\\\

Tyrion looked at her like she had grown a second head. “You can speak to spirits?” Brienne nodded and he moved to her side. His brother shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Lady Brienne, I am afraid I do not understand the jape.”

“This is not a jape, Lord Tyrion.” Brienne walked toward him and Tyrion moved away. She stopped. “I can hear and speak to those in between this world and the next. I can see your brother. He stands at my side.” Tyrion's eyes turned cold and Jaime could tell that they were not reaching him. 

“Tell him that I used to wait until all the servants had gone to bed and would rub his legs when he was a babe.”

She halted then repeated what Jaime had said. Tyrion looked at her like she was causing him pain. “That is quite enough, Lady Brienne. Please stop this. Jaime would never do that. He never did.” Brienne pleaded with him and Jaime struggled. _What could he say?_ Tyrion walked toward the door, pausing to face her. “I wish to never speak of this again, My Lady. I will kindly never tell your father that you tried to trick me with fantastical stories.” 

He had almost made it to the door when Jaime blurted out,“Tell him he slayed the dragon. That he is the powerful lion of Casterly Rock, Ser Tyrion Lannister-”

“The dragon was slain by the powerful lion of Casterly Rock, Ser Tyrion Lannister,” Tyrion's back tightened and he slowly turned around to face Brienne again. “Your brother would play the dragon to your knight. He loved to hear you laugh.”

Tyrion sagged into the wall, “Jaime... he is here.”

//--\\\//--\\\

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/2yGbMr6)  



	8. Crossing The Line, Entering The Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tyrion sat next to a blushing Brienne holding his sides, tears were rolling down his cheeks and his face ached from laughing so hard. Somehow, he managed to get his chuckling under control. It was difficult. “Talking” with Jaime again was so unexpected. Sharing ridiculous stories that only the two brothers would find remotely humorous. He thought about the one that had sent him into a fit of laughter…-_
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _”Remember that time Cersei chased us into the horse stalls and fell into the pile of horse shit?” Tyrion asked with a raised eyebrow. Jaime would know what he was speaking of, Brienne would not. It would be a way… he would know for sure…_  
>  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience with this chapter. I really hope you all like it. You are all the best!!
> 
> \-----------------
> 
> Thank you to my beta for always taking time to edit my chapters. She gives so much of her precious time to make sure these stories and chapters are at their best. Even when I whine and complain at all the edits. She still puts up with me. I couldn't do it without her. She has some amazing stories on the site, please go check them all out. You will not be disappointed.  
> [ https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrymaya/pseuds/merrymaya ]
> 
> \-------------------  
> Thank you to Ro Nordmann for the gorgeous art work for this story. Her art is gorgeous and her stories are magnificent. She has been so kind to me and I'm so grateful to call her friend. She has been writing some of my favorite stories on the site and I urge everyone to go read them!  
> [ https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/pseuds/Ro_Nordmann ]

[ ](https://imgur.com/KJrQWCJ)

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//--\\\//--\\\

_**Chapter 8: Crossing The Line, Entering The Mind** _

//--\\\//--\\\

Tyrion sat next to a blushing Brienne holding his sides, tears were rolling down his cheeks and his face ached from laughing so hard. Somehow, he managed to get his chuckling under control. It was difficult. “Talking” with Jaime again was so unexpected. Sharing ridiculous stories that only the two brothers would find remotely humorous. He thought about the one that had sent him into a fit of laughter…-

_”Remember that time Cersei chased us into the horse stalls and fell into the pile of horse shit?” Tyrion asked with a raised eyebrow. Jaime would know what he was speaking of, Brienne would not. It would be a way… he would know for sure…_

_”Aye,” Brienne paused, looking into a void to her left. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. ”Jaime! That’s cruel! How could you?” She paused again. ”Stop laughing. That was extremely unkind.” She huffed. ”But really, Ser! To hide under her bed with a dead fish!” Tyrion nearly fell off his chair. Brienne’s eyes swung to Tyrion. ”Did you really hide in her closet with mask on and a pitch fork?”_

That was when Tyrion had dissolved into hysterical laughter. It also made him truly believe. Jaime was there. His brother- the one he was convinced he would never see or hear from again- was in his presence. There were no tricks. The Lannister brothers were reunited and he felt like his entire world was right again. Or as right as it could be with his brother being gone from this world. 

He wiped his eyes and looked at Brienne. She was shifting uncomfortably, but there was a tiny hint of a smile on her face. Her incredible blue eyes were soft and she didn’t say anything while he got himself under control. Tyrion sighed as the last of his laughter faded away. “There is so much I wish to say. So much I wish to ask.”

Brienne nodded. “So ask, my Lord. Your brother is here and he can hear you. I can be his voice.”

“How did you die, Jaime? When…”

Brienne was quiet for some time, then she said, “He doesn’t know how he died. Which isn’t unheard of. Some spirits do not remember their own passing. It can be traumatic or unexpected. He has been here for five years.”

Tyrion felt his insides turn to ice. _Five years…_ “Is that common, My Lady? For spirits to stay so long?”

“No,” she said and her eyes shifted again to that void where he assumed Jaime was. “It is not.”

“Why is he…?”

“I do not know,” she replied. There was something in her voice that caught Tyrion’s attention. There was both worry and hope in that voice. It was a weird mix of sadness and happiness. He tilted his head and she looked down at her hands. “I have helped many to the other side. I have seen the Stranger come to take spirits to their final resting place, but Jaime…” A quick shift of her eyes and then she looked even more intently at her hands. “He has been at my side for longer than anyone.”

Tyrion looked into the space Brienne was staring at. He squinted his eyes and tried to form Jaime in his mind. He longed to see him. He wished he could really talk to him and tell him about how lonely he had been without him. But he would settle for this. He would treasure this. Because even though it wasn’t ideal, he had his brother back in his life.

“Can he leave you? I mean to say, can he leave this island?” He paused and then asked another question quickly. “Why did he come to you? Surely there are others with this gift…”

Brienne licked her lips and glanced at the space before sighing and looking at Tyrion. “He is not the first Lannister to come to me.” She flinched and twisted her hands together. “I did not know who she was.” Tyrion wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him, to Jaime, or maybe to no one at the moment. “I only saw her for a short time. She was frantic and scared. But I remember her eyes and hair.” Her head rose and she looked directly at Tyrion. “She worried about leaving you.”

“Mother…” he whispered. His heart clenched in his chest. The pain unlike any he had known before. He had never known her, but hearing that she had worried for him… “You saw her?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “She came to me when I was very young. Her mind was solely on you. She worried you would not know love.” Her eyes misted over. “I hope she was not right.”

Tyrion could not meet her eyes. He had not known much love. He had not been anyone’s favorite. He cleared his throat.This was not a conversation he wished to have with her… or anyone. He got up from the chair he was sitting on and walked over to the pitcher of water in the corner. His hand shook a little as he poured a cup full. What would his life had been like if his mother- their mother- had lived? Would have Cersei been kinder? Would have Jaime still been in the Kingsguard at the age of five and ten? Would he still be alive? 

“I am sorry, Lord Tyrion,” Brienne said sadly from behind him. “I did not mean to make you sad or to cause you pain.”

“I know,” he acknowledged softly. “I know. You could not have known that you touched an open wound.” He returned to his seat and stared down into the clear liquid in his cup. “It is nice to know that she thought about me as she passed. It is nice to know that she was worried about me. I can take that with me.” He looked up. “It is more than what I had before this day.”

Brienne opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and sighed. “I fear I have made this conversation uncomfortable. I am sorry, Lord Tyrion.”

“Please stop apologizing,” Tyrion took a gulp of the water and then placed the goblet to the side of him on the small table there. “Did Jaime know that you had seen our mother?”

Brienne flushed in a blotchy way. She nibbled her bottom lip and shook her head. “No. I did not know it was her, as I said. It was only later that I figured out who I had met.” She rubbed her hands against the cotton of her pants. “It was one of my first experiences with a ghost. And I have to say it was not pleasant.”

“Was she…okay?”

Brienne looked at his mismatched eyes. “She is now.”

“You have seen her again?” Brienne inhaled sharply. Her eyes cutting to the empty space again. Her cheeks flushed even deeper and she ducked her head. Tyrion wondered what Jaime was saying. He knew his brother must be reacting as he was. This was their mother. A faded memory for Jaime and an emptiness for Tyrion. “What is he saying?”

Brienne turned her head toward him. “He wanted to know when I had seen her again. He wanted to know why I did not tell him.” She licked her lips. “There are things… there are shadows…” She stood and paced the length of the floor. “I wish I understood all that was happening. I never have a ghost stay as long as Jaime has. I have only been frightened twice since I began helping the dead. And now…” She stopped. “Your mother came to me when I needed her the most. She helped guide me. She talked about her sons. Each time we met, it was her children that she spoke of.” She let out a frustrated sound. “I do not know why you are here, but I have to believe there is a reason. A reason your mother came to me the day you were birthed into this world. A reason that Jaime crossed an ocean to enter my home when I was only two and ten. And for you to be sent here- a small island in the Narrow Sea- when your father could have sent you to any number of different Lords.” Her shoulders slumped. “I believe there is more than what I- _we_ know.”

Tyrion thought about her words. It was true. It all seemed too convenient that so many Lannisters have found their way to this island, to this woman. He looked at her carefully. His eyes studying her. His brain moving pieces around so that the final picture could be revealed to him. She was right. There was something they were missing. He did not have all the information. 

“My Lady,” he jumped down from the chair and took her hand in his, she looked down into his eyes. “My brother was the knight. Brave and strong. I was only one in our games, where I got to be gallant and slay the dragon. I got to have the title of Ser in our play. He got to have the glory of winning battles.” He released her hand and shrugged. “But I was graced with a brain that is curious. I am one that likes to know and will search for the answers.” He smiled at her. “I will make it my mission to figure this puzzle out. You were right, My Lady, we were all brought together for a reason. We just need to understand what that reason is.”

//--\\\//--\\\

“Why did you not tell me about my mother?” Jaime asked once they were back in her bedchamber. She sat down on her bed and looked at him with weariness in her eyes.

“She helped me when the shadow came the last time,” her hands were shaking and she pushed them hard into her lap to stop the trembling. He sat next to her, wishing he could do as his brother had just done and take her hand in his. He settled for sitting as close as he could. The tingling in the air between them intensified. “I do not know where I was, but I was no longer here,” she continued. “I was alone in a darkened hallway and all my worst feelings were consuming me. I felt useless and like I was a failure.” She turned to look at him. “The whispering in my head told me that no one would ever love me, that my family would be better without me. That my father needed a son, not a too manly-by-half daughter.” Her voice got thicker with each word. He could feel all the emotion that was being ripped from her soul. Her face was filled with all the pain and fear she had been experiencing since that night. “Light disappeared from around me and left me alone with the dark. That’s when she appeared.” Her dazzling blue eyes were haunted by her memories. “She brought the light back to me. Your mother saved me.”

“She called out to me that night too,” he remembered. “Her voice, I had not heard it in years, but I recognized it deep down.” He moved his head closer to hers. “That was how I found you. Because she told me to save you.”

“Jaime,” she whispered. Her eyes dropping to his lips. His falling to her mouth in response. He longed to taste those ripe berry colored lips. “Your mother, when I first met her, she did something no other spirit had ever done.”

“What was that?”

“She possessed my body,” Brienne picked at the skin of her fingers. “It was not for long and I have learned to protect myself from that, but what I felt from her… I was only a child, but I remember the fear and desperation she felt. She thought your father would blame your brother for her death. She urged me to help him, but I never knew who she was… not until that night with the shadow.”

“My father,” he paused, gathering his thoughts. “My father did not treat Tyrion well. Neither did Cersei. My mother’s fears were realized, I am afraid.” He closed his eyes recalling all the cruel words thrown at his brother, all the hurtful things done to the little monster of the Lannister family. “I tried to protect him, but I did not do all I could. I left him to be a knight. I abandoned him to be Cersei’s lover. I stopped taking care of him and turned a blind eye to what he went through.”

“He does not blame you, Jaime.” Brienne reached over to touch him, hesitating. Her long fingers brushed over his, barely a slip of air between their hands. “He loves you. He wanted you to be alive.”

“He should blame me,” he told her as frustration built inside him. “I let him down. I should have been better.”

Brienne’s gaze held his. “You did not know it would end the way it did. You believed you would have more time. It was not your fault and he knows that.” He looked away. She did not know all the times he could have chosen Tyrion and instead went to Cersei’s bed. Brienne saw the soft edges of him, not the broken and jagged ones. Jaime had fooled her, had fooled himself into believing he was good enough to be around her. Her hand dropped down and he hissed, looking at their hands now pressed together. It was not quite like skin on skin, but he could feel the subtle beat of her heart and the warmth of her soul. “We are a lot alike, Jaime.”

“How do you figure that, My Lady?”

“I see the ugliness of my face and think myself unlovable,” she responded. “You see the ugliness of your deeds and believe yourself to be the same.” Her eyes bored into his. “You are worthy, Jaime. The choices you made were not perfect, but they are not the only thing that defines who you are.”

“And your looks are not the only definition of who you are.”

She smiled softly. “We are too much alike.”

“Aye, My Lady,” he whispered against her lips. His words brushed over her lips in the way his mouth could not. It was a kiss of air when he desired to give her one of passion. “You wondered why I was sent to you…”

“Yes,” her voice was barely a whisper.

“Maybe it was because we were meant to meet,” he held himself still. His body aching with need to touch her. Really touch her. “We found each other because we were destined to.”

“The Gods are cruel,” she said. “Why would they let us know each other in every way but one? Why would they give me these feelings for someone I can never have?”

“You have me,” he told her. 

“Not as I want,” her cheeks flushed. “Not as I dream about. I have fought so hard to stop this love from growing. It will only cause me pain when you leave, but I can not.”

“I long for you as well,” he admitted. “My heart that sits idle in my chest would beat for you. I know that what we feel is not ideal, but I do not regret it. I do curse the Gods with every ounce of my damaged soul, however.”

“Jaime,” her eyes darkened into a midnight blue. “If we could touch, would you really wish to hold me? Would you really wish to love me as I want you to?”

“If I could,” he started, his body tight with all his wants. “I would claim your lips. I would suck on your neck, right here,” he brought his finger up to hover close to her pulse point. She sucked in a sharp breath. “I would leave my brand upon your skin and proudly tell all that you are mine and mine alone. I would touch your body, worship you in the way you deserve to be worshiped. Brienne, I would ask for your hand and hope you would accept this aging and wounded lion as your husband. You would never have to wonder about my intentions because I would tell you, show you, everyday.”

“And you would never have to wonder about my intentions either,” her blue eyes filled with unleashed tears. “I would be proud to have you as my lover, as my husband. I would take your hand and give you my heart.” She stopped and shook her head slightly. “No, I am sorry, that is not true. I would not give you my heart, My Lord,” his stomach clenched. “I can not give you something you already own.”

He inhaled sharply. “I do not deserve to own something so pure and golden. In my hands it will only turn dull and rusted.”

“In your hands it will be protected,” she countered. “You have stood by my side since you came into my life. You have taught me how to be proud of my strength and not to be ashamed of my gift. You have held my heart for years and have never let it drop from your grasp.”

“You have more faith in me than I do.” He moved slightly away from her. “You should not have that much trust in a man that killed a king and has no honor.”

“I do not have faith in a man with no honor,” she moved into the space he put between them. “I have faith in the man who risked his honor to save innocents from being sacrificed to the burning lust of a Mad King. I put my faith in a man who would prank his lover to give his brother a moment of joy.” Silent, soft tears slipped down her cheeks. “I put my faith in a man who worried over me when I was injured, and cheered when I injured a wretched man wishing to enslave me as his wife. I put my faith in you, because you have shown me I can.” Her words were like a balm, soothing over his aching heart.

“Then in this afterlife, I had done something right,” he said, flipping his hand over so their palms were touching. “If I could make someone as kind and genuine as you believe me worthy, I must have done something right.”

“You have done more than just one thing right, Jaime.” Brienne said with conviction. “Please do not demean yourself and think so lowly of your value.”

“I ask that you do the same, Brienne.”

Her eyes shone brightly with more tears, “I will try.”

//--\\\//--\\\

Brienne hovered at the door to her father’s solar a couple days later. She had made it a point to avoid the man who had always been her rock in the storm. She had always found solace in her father’s presence. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her mind was racing with questions and anger over her father’s deception. She stopped mid-step and took a deep breath. She had to go in there. She had to get all her frustration and hurt out of her body. If she didn’t, it would fester and rot her insides like a disease. She turned to face the door and raised her hand to knock. Before her hand made contact with the wood, she paused again. She had never felt like this before. Her father had always been the one true constant in her life. She could always count on him to be there and to be honest with her… now though…

She straightened her shoulders and forced herself to knock on the door. She heard shuffling, then a loud crash and glass breaking followed by a muffled curse. She pressed her lips together in concern. Brienne’s hand dropped to the doorknob a second before it opened to reveal her father. The proud man whom she looked up to her whole life was a shell of himself. His sandy and graying hair was sticking up in all directions. His eyes were red-rimmed and blood shot. His cheeks were a ruddy color from drink. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt.

“Starlight,” he said. His voice was only slightly dull from the amount of liquor he had consumed. “Please come in.” He stepped aside and she entered. She looked around her. A small side table was knocked over with a decanter broken on the floor. He rushed over to the table and righted it. “Sit, my darling. Please.”

She took a seat by the window and waited for him to join her. He sat across from her and she continued her inspection of him. Brienne had only seen him look this dishevelled once before… and that was when Galladon died. Her burning rage lessened to a simmer. She worried for him. She would always worry for him. 

“I…” she looked away from him. She needed to focus and get her words out. “I have never doubted that you would do anything to protect me. But now…” Brienne looked at him through a film of tears. “I am so mad at you. I have spent years thinking that I was a freak you could not love if you _knew_ what I was. But you did. You always did. You let me struggle alone. You let me think I would let you down. How could you?”

Selwyn shifted in his seat and his face was ashen. “I never wanted you to suffer, my starlight. I wished with all my heart that you would not be gifted with this trait from my family. I know I have not been as strong a father as I should have been. I have let too many things hurt you when I should have protected you instead.”

“I have never blamed you,” she said as the first set of tears fell. “I just wanted you to be proud of me.”

“I have always been proud of you!” He leaned forward. His hands reaching for hers. She held still for a moment before giving in and letting him comfort her. “You are the very best of your mother and I.” He released one of her hands after squeezing it and placed his large hand on her cheek. She leaned into his touch. His warm palm felt good against her skin. She rubbed her cheek against the roughened skin. She felt like a little girl again, needing her father’s support. “I wish she could have seen you. She would have swelled with pride that you were hers in the same way I do.”

“I helped her pass over,” she whispered. He inhaled sharply. “She really loved you and she was sorry her body was too weak to stay with you.”

He looked gutted. “You are so much like her.”

“She was beautiful, father,” Brienne looked away from him. “I will never be considered beautiful.”

Selwyn took her chin gently in his massive hand. “She was beautiful, but she was also strong and smart and giving. When I look at you, I see her. Every day, you take my breath away. You are my everything and I can not apologize enough for not preparing you for living with this gift. I was blind and stupid. I took your trust and broke it. I hope you can forgive me for leaving you to find your way alone.”

“I just want to understand,” she implored. “Please father, tell me what you know. Help me understand.”

He paused. His eyes haunted. “You deserve to know the truth, my starlight.” He looked away for a moment then back at her. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” she whispered. Her heart began to pound loudly again.

//--\\\//--\\\

Cersei walked through the castle swiftly. Her body was full of agitation. Her skin was clammy and cold. She shivered as she descended the stairs toward the tunnels under the castle. The darkness seemed to whisper to her and pulse with life. She entered the dragon room, her eyes shifting from side to side. Fear clawed at her stomach. Needle points of pain poked at her. She inhaled and exhaled quickly. Harsh gasps. Phantom fingers scratched her neck and she rubbed at the skin of her throat.

She pulled her hands back and screamed in horror. Blood, red and thick, covered her palms. She looked down at her feet. Water lapped at her shoes. She spun around, searching for the source. The liquid slipped from the walls, faster and harder, filling the cavern. She tried to run toward the stairs that she had just descend and found the entrance almost completely obscured by blackness.

More water rushed around her, up her legs and over her knees. Faster and faster. She looked down and saw her reflection. Her neck and chest were covered in her blood, still seeping slowly from thick scratches. Cersei tried to yell, scream for help. Her voice got caught in her throat. Words lodged like food, cutting off her ability to breathe. The water rose to her hips and she felt the tears gathering. She was going to die! The fingers gripped her shoulders and pushed. 

She opened her mouth to gulp in some air before being submerged. She didn’t close her mouth fast enough and some salty water rushed into her throat. She tried to push herself up, but the weight on her shoulders tightened and held her under. She opened her eyes. A face appeared before her. The skin was bluish, eyes glassy and dull. Cersei screamed again and more water filled her lungs. 

Melera. Her old friend’s hair was caked in mud and blood. Her body was broken and contorted. She swam toward Cersei awkwardly. Her youthful hands reaching for her old friend, her murderer. Cersei shook and pushed, trying to break free from the grip of the phantom hands. 

“You have made a deal with a God so cold,” Melera screeched. Her voice high and piercing even in the still rising water. “Took a life and made it so you will never grow old.”

Her first victim used the flow of the water to dance around Cersei, her mouth pressed close to Cersei’s ear, “Water lapped at my side as I died.”

The dead child touched the blonde woman’s hair and Cersei jerked in fear. “Your hands committed a crime. Sand through your hourglass moves faster, soon you will have no time.”

Cersei felt the ice in her veins thicken, turning her body as cold as it had ever been. “Jaime will rise from slumber and embrace another, hands will grip your neck and you will share my color.”

The specter from her past smiled at her and Cersei felt bile settle in her throat. She wanted to retch. Black liquid, thick and inky, slipped out of her ghastly grin. “Blue from cold, green from mold. Your fate is set, the God will be met.”

She floated away from Cersei and the water around her changed to blood. The liquid rushed away, leaving the room and her covered in crimson. She screamed again, falling down. Her body folded in on itself. Darkness danced around her, still pulsing with life. Or death. Cersei screamed over and over, calling out for her white Knight, “Jaime! Jaime, save me. I love you, I love you, I love you. Jaime! I need you.”

A serpentine voice hissed in her ear, “If you want your lover, you must kill another.”

“Who?!” she screamed into the blackness.

“A person will come, pure and true. Once they appear, you will know what to do.”

Cersei opened her eyes and screamed again as the darkness took shape. A deformed and monstrous creature stood before her. It’s hulking form was slimy with mildew growing like a beard on its chin. The eyes were ruby red and glowed with hate. Her mouth opened wider as she hollered. The creature seemed to grin at her, small crab-like animals crawled sideways out of its blackened mouth. 

“Beauty once of golden hue, blue will look good on you,” The behemoth towered over her shaking form. “Fire warm and sweet divine, you will never find.” Then the monster pooled into a puddle of muck around her, covering her body.

Cersei woke up suddenly from the dream, panting in terror from all she had seen. Her heart was thundering in her chest and she jumped out of her bed. She looked in the mirror that hung on her wall. The scratches were not there, neither was the blood or muck, but somehow she knew it wasn’t simply a dream. She had been given a choice. Her life and happiness or another’s. 

There was no choice. Cersei Lannister would always pick her own life.

 

[ ](https://imgur.com/2yGbMr6)  


**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> [ ](https://imgur.com/2yGbMr6)


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